I was walking down one aisle of the metro station, in an entourage containing all my friends. We are, at the moment, Very Unhappy -- everybody is quite depressed, and Andy is weeping furiously. Mr. Burns, the friendly deaf old geezer who comes into the Hillside library all the time is guiding people to the funeral. He hits me in a friendly way with his rolled up newspaper in order to get me on the right track: you see, I'm leading the procession. Soon we came to the funeral. It's in the parking lot next to the bus station. This is Melanie's funeral. There is a huge Days of the Dead-style altar erected in the middle of the lot, complete with an enormous black and white photo of Melanie, with flowers ringing all around it and lots of burning candles and papier-mache skeletons and so on. A mariachi dirge is playing in the background.