I'm walking home from somewhere along a road--sort of a country road, nothing around. There are three or four girls walking ahead of me, dressed in party clothes, but their "party clothes" look like they're made of rubber or maybe plastic--some sort of heavy industrial stuff, tough. I'm glad of their presence because I'm a little afraid to be walking home alone, but a little afraid of them as well.

Then all of them are gone except one. She walks beside me, and now that she's closer, I see that her dress isn't made of rubber or plastic, but something very soft, almost like feathers. And it's purple. I touch the shoulder of her dress and the feathers lift in the air, and I laugh, and tell her that I thought she was dressed in something different.

We're walking along, and I don't know where I am. She moves to turn down a road toward what appears to be an apartment complex, and I hesitate. I ask if she's sure this is the right way, and she says she is, that she's staying in one of these apartments. I know that's not the way that I need to go, though, but I'm sure I can't find my way by myself. I think of calling Bob to ask him how to get home, but I wouldn't know how to describe where I am.

Then I'm somehow in the apartment, and the girl is a man, a man with a short, sparse red beard which I feel tickling me as we kiss . . . and I think, "Oh, this is just a dream."

Then it's the next day, and Bob is there. We look out the window and see a parade pass by, or at least a group of people who seem to be celebrating something. I turn to the room and say that I just saw PM wearing a Mickey Mouse hat, and Bob says at the same time that he saw him, wearing a Minnie Mouse hat--so I figure we did see the same person, but our perception of what he was wearing was different.

We're sitting on a couch with our feet up on the coffee table, eating potato chips. I keep thinking that we should leave, but I don't want to. I feel comfortable there. There are a couple of people sitting on a couch near the other wall, and one of them is an "aunt;" she has brought a gift for another girl (not the one I know), who is reluctant to open it.

She finally looks inside the bag and there's a candle in there--she doesn't want it, and won't even touch it to bring it out of the bag. The aunt is annoyed.

I see that there's a gift for me, too, and I check the gift tag three times to make sure that it's really my name that's on there. It is. I pick up the bag and carry it over to where my friend is sitting, and sit on the floor in front of her and open the bag.

There's a candle inside, a squat one in a glass container, and several small porcelain thing, like a ring holder, maybe, and a chopstick rest. There's also a book. I open it, and it has a cover like Simple Abundance, and the title is something like "The Things We Both Like." It's full of quotations and passages from books, and it's beautifully printed--exactly the kind of thing I like.

My friend says she had fun picking out these things for me, and at that moment I feel a great deal of love for her and for a moment, understand how a woman could love a woman.

I'm visiting an upscale dress shop which has a sign on a door that leads to a "Private Viewing Room," and I think, why would you want a private viewing room? But then I do go in there, and there are several other groups of people sitting on upholstered chairs waiting for the people they're with to try on clothes.

I'm with my sister, and she comes out in a green and black plaid dress with white trim (she's maybe 10 years old), and I sit back and look, and touch the collar, and tell her that I don't think it suits her. She likes it, and wants it, but I tell her I think she could do better.

Then I turn around and see a television set in the room. A show starts with some sort of Celtic/Scottish band playing, and I think maybe it's the band we saw at WDW, and I'm interested, but then a woman singer comes on--a country singer--Lee Ann Rimes? and I'm much less interested.

Then I'm at some sort of competition where women are competing to see who can spit sunflower seeds and hit a flagpole . . .

Then I'm driving through an area like Rainbow Ave./KCK, in a little black convertible with the top down, my hair flying in the breeze. Sometimes I go around corners and my door flies open, but it doesn't bother me. I pass an outdoor market of some kind, and a Brazilian man with long black hair waves and shouts out, "Ciao, Bella!"

There's a tiny green lizard on a screen door that I see as I pass.

I was looking idly at a photograph of the interior of SR's house, and noticed that there were a couple of cats in the picture. I remarked to someone, oh, S has cats, too, and then I looked at the photograph closer and saw that there were a LOT of cats.

I started counting, and got up to 30. No one seemed to think it especially odd, but I kept saying, "S has THIRTY cats." And then I said that he must have even more than that, because I bet there were a dozen or so asleep upstairs.

S made a remark to the whole company, something to the effect that he didn't have a wife and family (although he does, in RL), so the cats were his life.

Then Bob and I were home, in the backyard, and I saw a little animal poking its head out from under a bush. I excitedly pointed it out to Bob, and as we watched, the animal, which seemed to be some kind of ferret or weasel, came completely out from the bush. It was long and sleek and black, and looked a lot like Dinah.

Bob stroked it like a cat, and it walked away, and then I saw that there were two animals on the porch--like a badger and something else. They got up and ran after the ferret, and I said something about this must be the day for animals.