My boyfriend Jeremy and I were in my room. I was at a computer, and he was probably at his, and we were talking about Beatles music. It was a Wednesday, and I told him he should come to class with me tomorrow. He said no, that he would be out of place and nobody would know him. I told him well nobody knows me either. So he dropped me off at class and to my surprise he stayed- he went to the other side of the room and played DJ for them. Paul McCartney was there lecturing!  Then I remembered where we were, and caught Jeremy's eye. I motioned like a steering wheel- he could get a parking ticket. He ran out. After class I went to find him under a stairwell, like the one at the detox facility. He was laying on the ground, talking to our choir pianist. He asked if she was feeling any better, and she said that his advice about not eating so much or something worked. She got up and sat on his stomach, and slid off between his legs, hurting his groin. At some point in this, he donned bushy grey eyebrows and a long grey beard. It looked pretty funny. We were going to walk to the car when someone sitting on a bench got up and started to chase him, calling him Hank Turner. I warned, "Jeremy..." and I guess she realized it wasn't Hank Turner, whoever that is, and stopped chasing.