(08/01/01)["Fabulous pool in the motel room."] I and Charla and Ginny are staying at a motel. I wake up in the morning and go to the next room to see if Ginny has left yet. She has not. Another couple of children, including a young girl are with her, so she will be staying for awhile. We decide to have a big breakfast. I order a stack of pancakes. For some reason I don't eat them. It might make me feel bad. Then Rochelle is there in her wheelchair. Her hair is styled very nicely. I remark how nice she always looks. The young girl is trying to talk to her and she doesn't notice she is there. I point her out to Rochelle so she won't accidentally run over her. Then I notice a huge swimming pool in another room. I dive in boots, jeans and all and splash around with the kids. The pool turns into a playing field with lots of water on it. After we are done playing, I go into yet another room and see Rochelle in a purple pretty nightgown, only she must weigh 300 pounds now. She sits in a bathtub, but with no water in it. She asks me to splash some water onto her like we were doing in the play field. She has another favor to ask me but never finishes asking it. I stand there waiting, but she just stops speaking. I then go look out a window and see below a huge bedroom. It is the bedroom of the King. He bed itself is huge. The pillows are bigger than a person and take up half the bed. A train of sorts like on formal dresses is trailing from the bed a long distance. I see bishops and cardinals coming in and watch as they do the ritual putting on of robes and red colorful shawls and things. The King is standing to one side talking with an attendant. I realize I am watching a play. I remember this play from another time. I see people walking under the huge bedside table. They look like little dolls next to the tall legs of the table. I listen to the words and can't decide if this is a play I saw before or another play. I decide it is a different play, but written by the same author. The bride of the King is missing, perhaps run away. I see hangings on the wall that tell me that. It's fun to be peaking at this spectacle from the high window. Then I turn and look back into our room. Charla has decided to go up into an attic through the trap door. She rummages around and the door is shut. I get worried and call to her to come back down. She does so, finally, with a loud bump of the door slamming shut after her.