I found myself in a large dormitory room for three and suspected that at least one of the other two beds was HB’s, my former roommate. The third may have been her sister’s. It was a warm, inviting room, but there were no desks. I became nostalgic for our desks, institutional as they were, and the arrangements for them that we came up with.
While unpacking my suitcase, I was distraught to find that the only clothes I had were the ones I was wearing and a nightshirt. I had brought bric-a-brac, but nothing to wear. At first I hoped no one would notice as it came to me that I was there for only three days, but in the end I announced my problem and apologized for the way I would look and smell after a day or so. Strangely, I don’t seem to have seen or spoken with anyone, as though I knew all of this was only in my head.
I started to arrange the things I had brought, but became confused because there were already a lot of knickknacks around, and I lost track of which were mine and which had been sitting out already. One piece that caught my eye that I thought and hoped was mine was a very thin slice of highly polished or treated wood, the cross section of a tiny tree trunk or a branch. It was an amazing, magical piece.
I was on a bus that came to a river. To my horror, the bus kept going as though the driver meant to ford it. I calmed down, thinking that perhaps the river was extremely shallow, and I worried more about being swept away than sinking. The wheels did start sinking into the water, and I was sure I had come to my end. Suddenly and rapidly the bus unfolded stilt-like legs and walked across, its belly above the water. I was stunned.