I awake to find myself in an odd yet familiar room. It's dark, I think. I have the impression that I bumped around on some of the furniture, so it's possibly well furnished. I don't have any particular negative feelings, so I probably enjoyed it at least somewhat, or was totally apathetic to it. I'm not sure. My vision is blurred, as though I've been drugged. I find it hard to focus my mind on anything. What is my name? Where am I? Oh yes, some sort of room. I think it's dark.

 (We define the room to be bare from the lack of described furnishings.)

I teeter out the door, or possibly a window, and wander around until I find myself in some sort of forest. My mind is starting to clear. Perhaps I was under the influence of carbon monoxide. I blink in the harsh, unaccustomed sunlight. A forest? A concrete forest! I'm surrounded by buildings. The trees I have previously been only vaguely aware aware of turn out to be neat, orderly rows of cherry trees, one week past blossom. Damn. They remind of the cherry tree my grandparents used to have. A particularly bad storm ripped it in twain. I feel so deprived.

 The concrete “forest” suggests that some of the strongest parental influences were not parental at all: television, movies, and books.

It's a narrow sidewalk, of the small rundown city variety. It LOOKS easy to navigate, but is filled with hidden menace. Cracks. Gum. Leaves. GARBAGE. Everywhere garbage. I see some annoyingly dead-eyed children wallowing in the filth. I avert my eyes.

An Oasis in the concrete jungle! The perilous sidewalk ends at the edge of a rather large puddle, occupying a pothole. It looks like somebody left a hose on. In fact, I can see the water trickling into it, snaking down from some uphill destination. Miraculously, it's path managed to circumvent the garbage in the street.

The path is clean, here, and soft grass lines the sidewalk. Somebody has left a "drinking vessel" here. It's one of those Pokémon cups for little kids. The sort that is made of clear plastic, with the handle doubling as a straw. You know the sort I mean? The handle/straw bit looks as though it has been thoughtfully chewed. It's a glorious find, really, and I envy it's owner. I had seen a cup like that at TARGET but felt too silly to actually purchase one. *sigh*

 This cup seems to invoke passions in the subject beyond a simple drinking glass. Perhaps the subject mourns a lost opportunity for marriage?

It's the chuck key to the drill that I lost last week! I pick it up and smile ruefully. I may not be able to get my entire drill back, but at least I can have this small part. Plus, the bastard that swiped it will have to find a NEW chuck key before s/he can use my drill. Of course I'll have to find a new drill before I can use my chuck key. I sigh again, and drop my Pokémon cup. I had planned on taking it home and working it into my next sculpture but the key has reminded me that I don't have enough money to purchase a new drill. I guess I could always try prostitution. Tell me, though, what's the difference between a starving artist and a starving whore? Probably a roll of duct tape and some hot glue. What's a chick to do?

 A drill chuck key is definitely an unusual choice here, both from its appearance and purpose. This suggests that the subject seeks a highly original career and hopes that the career enhances her individuality.