I am playing a video game

I am sitting in the basement of my childhood home, playing a baseball video game. I am trying to set up the game so I can play home run derby between the Baltimore Orioles and the New York Yankees at Camden Yards. The game is very sophisticated, however, and I can't figure out how to make it do what I want. I start becoming very frustrated. My father, who is watching me play the game, says I should just stop trying, because I am making a fool of myself. He tells me that the newspapers have arrived at the end of the driveway, and I have to go deliver them.

I walk outside. There are no newspapers at the end of the driveway. I walk down the driveway towards the side yard to see if perhaps the papers have been left there. There are no papers there, but looking down at my feet I see that the grass has turned a gray, ashen color. Reaching down to touch one of the blades, I see that the entire ground is covered with this same thin film of gray dust. I look around me. The house is gray, the sky is gray, I am gray. Everything is now gray.

I walk back towards the end of the driveway and see that someone has left a box there. I open it. Inside are perhaps a dozen thinly sliced breaded pieces of chicken, exactly like what you would find in the frozen section of the supermarket. I decide to deliver these instead of newspapers. Taking the box in hand, I start walking around the neighborhood. Some of the houses have separate boxes, shaped like newspaper boxes, attached to their mailboxes that are labeled "chicken." I place a slice of chicken in each box. When I reach the cul-de-sac at the end of my street, I see that there are two houses without boxes. I walk down the driveway of the first house. The front door is open, so I walk in. The house is very well furnished. Standing in the foyer I can hear the sounds of someone cooking a meal in the kitchen, and jazz music playing from the stereo. I want to go inside but realize I will not be welcome here. I quietly place a slice of chicken by the bannister and leave. Then I walk to the second house. Again the front door is open. Stepping into the foyer, I can hear the voice of Tony Soprano amidst the clanking of silverware. Soprano is yelling at one of his kids while eating his dinner. I am afraid to see him so I leave the piece of chicken on the floor, by the welcome mat.

I walk back outside. The sky is still gray, but everything is getting darker. I am now out of chicken. As I walk back towards my house, I realize that my father will make me collect money for the things I have delivered. The thought of this makes me extremely anxious.