I can't remember much, but I do remember I was coming back from working or something, and I was driving down a hill very much like one we have back in Vermont. However, for some reason I thought I was in Florida. I remember just coming down the hill and I had gotten up to 60 miles an hour, and I was just pumping the brakes and slowed myself right down to about 40. I said, "I'll just put it in second and keep it there." So I shift into second and I guess I had a little trouble getting it in because I was looking at the shift anyway. When I looked up there was a parked car right in front of me, and I jammed on my brakes to avoid it and swerved, came around and then I just barely hit another parked car that was ahead of this first one I saw. This second one was about a '54 Plymouth and my right wheel or tire went into his left tire well, that is the front tire well. I didn't see that there was any damage done to the car, but I just put somebody else, a friend of mine, but one that I'm not familiar with, said that I had cracked the fender. I got out and took a look at this car and didn't think so because it had been in a hole and it was all cracks and dents. The first car that I swerved to avoid was a friend of mine. It was a red Valiant, and I remember the paint job got real bad on it. He had his name in magic marker on the window ledge on the driver's side. There was a bunch of phone numbers of girls. About the time I was noticing this, I got woke up by the alarm clock. The color of the car that I hit was sort of a light blue.