Elmo found himself suddenly somewhere else, sitting naked on a warm linoleum floor. It was dark, so his eyes had to adjust. Where had he just been? The memory was recent but was fading quickly. He was still shaking: it had been cold, very cold. He remembered only the shadowy form of winter. Disorientation crumbled as he began to realize where he was. Outside it was partly sunny and warmer, with a high around 60. He was at home on his kitchen floor. Had it been a dream? He couldn’t tell, but he knew that, where he had just been, there would have been no chance that Saturday would be dry with a low in the middle 40s and a high around 70.