I am tired. I just did two days of speaking at a conference. I am Oprah Winfrey. I go to the hotel room, which is quite expensive. My husband and I are supposed to leave this hotel and go to a cheaper one, but I am so tired that we decide to stay another night here. All I want is to swim in the pool and watch a little TV and sleep. My husband is very supportive. I go to the window and call out encouragement for the women's volleyball team. I am now a helper of Oprah and do an interview for her so she can rest. Now it's time to leave and I'm late and missed the bus, so there's a car load of Boy Scouts who have room for one more. It's a tight squeeze to get my wheelchair folded up in the back, and then I squeeze into the back seat with the boys. I notice that the driver is also in the back seat, with steering wheel and buttons there. I look in the front where there is also a steering wheel and lights and buttons that the boys are pretend driving with. It isn't functional though. We go and arrive at a house, possibly my parents'. I come in. The driver hands me a pie. I start to eat it - whipped cream and so on. My mother notices the meat chunks in the pie (like turkey or chicken hearts or gizzards) are not done yet, nearly raw. I remember the driver had not cooked it for very long, so she goes to cook it a bit more. My father is disappointed and leaves. Now I see a fan going to a room where Elvis is. He wants Elvis to autograph his orange. Elvis is rude, selfish, spoiled and arrogant. He pokes the pen into the orange and growls a few sarcastic words at the fan (male). I go in next and ask him to autograph my orange. Elvis would like to have an affair with me but I spurn him with some contempt. I tell him what I think of him.