Wrapping Presents in High June

When I was a kid, my brother and I would put in endless hours playing our version of a baseball game that involved a wiffle ball and (should we hit the ball) pre-designated areas for outs, hits and home runs. In this dream, I was in that environment once again- my backyard. Intensely sunny and slightly overgrown grass. Though, I was an adult this time and I was wrapping a present for my niece. Once finished, I walked over to the area where I would have pitched the wiffle ball to my brother 20 or more years ago. No one was batting but the ball was nevertheless hit- or not. Eventually, there was a batter, and it was my brother. The last at bat I remember was a fly ball to left, just short of a homer- it landed just half way up the hill to the deck.