Mike had published a book which was a collection of his monthly columns. I opened the book at random and read one where he said he was "moving the newsletter" to, I think, northern California, and that someone else would be joining him in writing it.

In the next dream, I was talking to someone who looked exactly like Cello, and I told him, "You could be the identical twin of the managing director of our company."

Then I was making accordion-folded booklets for Bob's dad, something to do with a church project.

I was watching a man demonstrating his flying technique. It was pretty amazing. He was really small--like jockey small. Somehow this woman would be propelled into the air, and then the guy would get behind her and sort of steer her around. I was calling everyone I knew to come and watch, saying, "You have to see this!" but it seemed that I was looking at it on a computer instead of television, because I kept hitting "rewind" ("reload?"), but it wasn't working right. I was feeling badly because I had called everyone over, but couldn't really show them what I wanted them to see.

I was accessing it on a long URL, but realized that the guy had his own site--www.qui.com (which I actually looked up, and found out is owned by a cybersquatter).

I'm on a trip to Worlds of Fun or some similar amusement park. I've forgotten to wear shoes. It's not a problem with the park, but I don't want to get my feet dirty, and I feel uncomfortable.

John S. prints a document and signs it, and I notarize it. Then Leslie comes home and sees a misspelled word--she says they have a filter on the computer for the word "demeaning"--it should be spelled "demeening." I tell her to print it again, but John will have to sign it. She starts filling in numbers and things with the papers upside down.

I'm at YFS; they're redoing the bathrooms. I suggest that they put in some cheap plastic chairs--they would only cost around $15.00 each--and put in some towel racks and get some nice towels. I accidentally see inside the men's room and see DH naked. Eek. He has a funny look on his face.

I'm with Bob at Elysian Fields. I pick out a small calendar book with pale green pages (about half the size of a checkbook) and a blank journal and another calendar with colorful drawings. I take them to the counter to check out, but the clerk doesn't know how much one of the items costs, and goes into the back room to find out.

She comes back out and says it will be an hour to an hour and a half before we can buy it. I'm disappointed, but we can't stay around that long, so we leave. And we leave everything, not just the one thing that we can't buy.

I am with Arnold S., who is carrying a newborn baby girl in the palm of his left hand. Her hair is curled in a topknot; I ask him who curled her hair, and he says the women at the hospital did. I take a key from him and unlock the door; I'm afraid that if he unlocks it, he'll drop the baby.

We go inside the house--his wife is at work--we talk about whether we will "get together;" I think if we do, we will no longer be friends. He says he's "taking it easy with [you]."

I'm in France, and I seem to be working there, rather than visiting. I have a bicycle (although it appears to have two sets of handlebars, one on each end, and facing each other rather than going the same direction), and I would like to go out sightseeing and riding, but I'm not sure if it's safe. And I can't speak French, besides, so I'm worried.

I'm wearing the same clothes I had on the day before, but so is everyone else, so I figure it must be okay. I go with someone to the office manager's office to get some stamps, but while we're there I see some coins on her desk, and take a one franc coin--it's very beautiful, very small, and I can't resist, although I feel guilty about it and promise myself I'll pay her back later. Although it's obviously made of metal, I find I can fold it along scored lines, and I fold it into a rounded, dome shape.

Bob and I are sharing a house with another couple; I'm not crazy about it, but I figure it's better than sharing a house with single people--at least they're not bringing strangers home all the time.

The woman says she can't pay a bill until she gets paid at the end of the week, and I ask if she needs a loan. I don't even wait for an answer, but write a check for $100. Then I realize that might not be enough, because she has closed her accounts without waiting for checks to clear, but I realize it's not my responsibility.

I see a nice wooden napkin holder in her part of the house, then realize that I have one like it, too--it came with the apartment--but I have paper napkins in mine instead of cloth ones. I'm cleaning the kitchen, and I think, well, at least I'm keeping it clean.

We're going out to dinner with Terry and Kathy at Stephenson's, but Terry is taking Buddhist instruction at the Lee's Summit Clinic, so we have to go with him and wait until his class is finished. I don't understand why we have to go and wait--I'm bored, and would rather just go home and meet up with them later, but it seems we can't do that. If I had known I'd just be sitting around, I would have brought a book.

I also thought, well, if I have to wait, maybe I could sit in on the instruction, but I can't, because it's secret.

So I just wander around, walking through the clinic. I walk through an operating room, where Bob is assisting with an operations--wearing scrubs and everything.

Then Terry's class is over and everyone gets out at once, and I have to stand in a line to go to the bathroom. As I stand in line, I look out the window and see geese nesting over the gate.

Everyone comes out of class and goes to a reception area where there are lots of decorated cakes and other food set out, and they are all eating. I eat some chicken, then realize I shouldn't be eating, because I won't be hungry for dinner.