I’m in a large building. It’s a school at the bottom. It’s something like 100 stories tall. I’ve done something naughty and I go hide on the top floor. There’s a security guy up there who ignores me. Here’s the situation. I can hide at the top and I get that I won’t get caught. But it’s tall and I’m afraid of heights and, what’s more, nobody is there. And there’s no food. It’s very strange that the security guy pays no attention to me. He leaves.

There’s one elevator down. And I decide after pacing around a little that I don’t want to stay here all by myself. I’m safe but I have no life. Security is of little use if you are not living. It seems like I can’t avoid analyzing. I get on the elevator. There are only three choices. Floors 80, 40, and some letters that represent the main floor. I commit myself to returning to the school where I will no doubt get in trouble. When I get to the main floor I still want to hide. I walk into the girl’s change room by mistake. I am caught by a girl who is horrified and I try to explain that I’m simple not perverted and I’m lost. But she doesn’t buy it. And she wants to go complain. I manage to find the boy’s change room. A new place to hide. What am I hiding from?

I am joined, in the boy’s room, by two girls I know. One wants to lecture me and the other wants to help me. Funny that the girls don’t get in trouble for being in the boy’s room. I still don’t know, besides being lost in the girl’s room, what I had done wrong in the first place. There’s a swimmer in the pool but he takes no notice of us. I don’t think I get caught.

Another dream. My father has built a tiny garden in the middle of a field. Mother is meant to tend to it. But the garden is far away and, as I said, in the middle of a large field. My father’s men have built a tiny shelter for my mother in case of rain but the little shelter has no roof. The experience of visiting the garden in the middle of the field leaves me feeling very sad.

I’m trying to order an event out of a catalog. I have to answer questions on a form. And I undertake this process as seriously as I can muster. But there’s a well dressed woman with her hair in a tight bun and she explains, pinching up her angry face, that all of my choices contradict and refute each other and that if I wasn’t going to take this seriously I should really just leave.

SS