I am waiting for Mary. It looks like a street scene and I'm talking to another man. Mary has gone somewhere to get dressed. Then, after a very long wait, I see Mary coming toward me on the opposite side of the street. She's wearing white slacks and a blue and white jersey. But the back of her jersey is undone. Mary looks worried. I go toward her and when I join her, she tells me the news is not good. She has just come from the doctors who told her about the progress of her illness. She tells me that they are honest with her and tell her what symptoms to look for. They tell her what are the good signs and what are the bad signs. A bad sign is if she gets headaches -- this means the disease is getting worse. She has a headache. I begin to cry and lay my head on her shoulder. At one point I call her "Maria" instead of Mary and I can't understand why I made such a mistake. I am talking and crying and trying to tell Mary what is in my heart. I want to tell her all about how I feel and I want her to tell me what she wants, should she die.