I am a professional competitive eater. My partner (a very thin Japanese man) and I are training for an event that will occur in two weeks - it's a brat-eating contest, and we want to be well prepared. We start off with a large Caesar salad split between us. The salad was made in an industrial-sized mixing bowl, and it looks like it can hold maybe ten gallons. After we scarf the salad down easily, we begin to eat ice cream. It's flavored with chocolate and peanut butter, and we're eating out of a fifteen gallon cardboard carton, similar to the ones they have in ice cream shops, only bigger. Ice cream is one of my favorite foods to eat, so I'm wolfing it down the hatch much faster than my partner. Suddenly, a Mr. Miyagi-like character steps out of the shadows and raps my partner on the head with a cane. This coach character lets my partner know in no uncertain terms that if he falls behind me again, he will be severely punished.

I am with my family and Scott. We are in Asia, possibly the Himalayas, and we are bound and determined to climb to the peak of a mountain. However, compared to the surrounding mountains, the mountain we aim to climb is rather puny. For some reason, we climb a large portion of the mountain inside the mountain, like it's the Statue of Liberty or something. The pathways inside the mountain are treacherous, with plenty of falling rock and tight passages to squeeze through. When we're about halfway up the mountain, Papa opens up a hidden trap door, and we surface. The rest of the climb is difficult, in part because I've worn running shoes instead of hiking boots. Scott walks behind me to ensure I don't slip and fall a few hundred feet.

When we reach the summit, I realize what my parents didn't tell me; we were involved in a race to this mountain's peak. Our method of climbing the mountain's interior has put us far into the lead, and we've won the race. As I woke up, I remember that I was racing to descend the mountain and claim my prize (and I never knew what the prize was).