There in the dream, a young man looking decidedly younger than normal stood in the oversized clothes of a certain other man, flanked by taunting skulls. Around him, the world was a melange of the gloom of the Isle, the melodious streets of the French Quarter, and a particular stretch of New Orleans road that a particular man might well recognize, after all, even his shadow still haunted the corner within Louie's messed up and mixed up dreamscape. The shadow was long and slender like a scarecrow, stooped over a hat that matched the suit Louie wore, making the specter look halfway between a man and a frog.

Louie looked around, his face a mixture of shock, horror, and nostalgic loss. "Great. First the messed up vision, then my dad, and now this?" He said, looking at his arms, far too small for the slender sleeves he comically wore. He thought darkly to himself about the situation as he looked about, trying to decide between chasing the slight scent of freshly baked bread and trying to find his way out.