I'm still awake and in my body, though, as we drive away. I look back at the house, which is festive and colorful with ominous clouds in the background, like something from the set of a Tim Burton movie. "Did you bury me on the upper or lower floor?" I ask.

My friends don't respond, but one of them gives me a small satin satchel that seems to be filled with potpourri. Stamped onto it are the words "Peter's Photocopies." Apparently this is my secret code, and if I rub the satchel, something magical will happen, perhaps involving me being transferred to another dimension. I decide I don't want to do this yet, because it's not clear if I could come back to the real world at will. (Yet I don't really mind being dead, as it doesn't seem to have affected my life at all.)