I was Captain Janeway, coming home. Suitcase in tow, I arrived at my apartment building to find the elevators were broken.
Climbing up the stairs in my Starfleet uniform I exited onto the second floor only to quickly realize I lived on the third floor, and so return to the stairwell. On the next level it was still the second floor. How could this be? I repeated the action, but again I was on floor two. It didn't matter how far I climbed, I was constantly ending up in the same place.
Frustrated, I returned to the ground.
On the warm evening street, still with my rolling suitcase, I heard someone call for help. Others were along the sidewalk, crowded around something. Maybe something that could explain why every floor in my building was a repeat.
Instead it was somebody who was hurt, and others were tending to them, waiting for paramedics I imagine.
Knowing it was best to stay out of the way but still wanting to help, I offered to buy the people coffee. A woman asked me to get her drink in a traveling mug, but she didn't have one, and neither did I. Then she asked for a shot of tequila in the coffee.
"I don't have enough money for that." I said in confusion at the request, then turned to go back into deep space.