I'm in a small town and it is late at night. A woman is crying and complaining (dark-haired woman) because she told her secrets to a friend and they got returned to her with a cup of tea, meaning she felt betrayed because her friend told others. After awhile, I said to her, "Oh shut up. Quit complaining, because you've got friends who care about you. If they didn't care, they wouldn't have been concerned and talk about you." The woman got very upset with me and approached me menacingly with yogurt on her hands and took my hand. I said to her, "If you intend to hurt me, I shall hit you." Then I smear yogurt all over her hair. We laugh then and the tension is relieved. There are a bunch of neighbors in a line on the porch watching. We get into a conversation about people trying to be helpful and I argue with them that it is bullshit that it is out of good intentions that people help me. One woman cries and walks away. Some agree. A couple offer to help me into my bed and lift me up bodily and carry me through the window to my basement room I shared with another woman who talks about her boyfriend. Then it is hard to breathe. Oh, I hear a motor and we guess it's a VW bug or bus and it's an old man's wheelchair. Then it's hard to breathe and we see yellow thin strips of confetti-like stuff all in the air and we are breathing it in. It is in the air conditioning so we all get up and go outside where it is a hot summer night. A friend says, "Come stay at my house," and I go, to find a woman and her two teenage children on the porch. She is crying and telling her children she can't stand being married to their father any more and she's leaving. The girl says, "Please stay." The mother says, "I can't." She leaves. I am laying on a mattress pillow and a small boy comes to take it in the house. It's his bed. I ask him if I can sleep on it tonight and he agrees, only if I let him borrow my manual wheelchair. I agree and he starts to cart it off. His brother -- both are dressed in tee-shirts and no pants -- pokes at the young boy's penis and smirks. I look, curious about its size and shape. Then I tell the boy, "Please don't take the chair away now, because I may need it in the night and he can play with it tomorrow." I wonder where I'll sit while he plays with it. The boy agrees and brings it back. The brother again smirks and pokes him in the penis, in a teasing, embarrassed way. They leave and I lay down wondering how far away this house is from Claude's. (The street is sort of like a summer vacation spot street.)