I am in school somewhere.  We are supposed to go from there to somewhere else, down a long sandy road over a wide plain with no trees.  I have a great deal of trouble standing up for more than a very few steps.  It takes every ounce of my strength to rise to a standing position, and then I collapse after walking a few steps.  I finally make it, the last one in my group, to a little brown wooden building.  The instructor, a small, balding man with glasses, is telling how the school has a tradition to uphold.  The school is in England.  It seems that I get into trouble, but it is in Mrs. Loding's class.