        When he slid into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, sleep eluded him.  The ground felt lumpier than usual, and the air colder, and he just couldn’t get comfortable.  He would drift off, and then suddenly jerk awake again, imagining an angry horse holding a ray-gun in its hoof, somehow, and jabbering at him to get up.  He envisioned his tent burning as he was led away in chains.  He woke up trembling, sure that he was being vivisected on a lab table, bright lights shining in his eyes.  Every time he pulled his travel alarm out of his pillowcase, it would seem as if only moments had passed.  Finally, grumbling, he got out of his sleeping bag and walked over to the firepit.