I have a meeting with an attractive man, Jerry, who showed me the night life of a large Australian city. We were with three friends. We're in a car. A white old American clunker. My night-life guide is driving on the right side of the car. I am already telling him about being in two worlds at the same time. He understands perfectly. We have a very good communication. I sit in the passenger seat on the left. The other two may be in another car. I have things with me that I have to send back home. I'm very surprised that I am in two places at the same time. He and two of his friends are going to take me out to meet with black women friends of theirs with whom we will have sex. At first we come to a room where women are baking. Their skin looks like bread. Or more like a souffl of egg white. It is very steamy, sweaty and hot. One of the women is suddenly coming under water and her head shrinks. Something like the wicked witch of the west in The Wizard of Oz, but different. Not threatening. Then there are some things I have to send back home to the other world. We go to a post office where they ask me for identification. My driver's license has no picture on it. I can see the photo actually disappear as I am showing it to the man behind the counter. They will make a photograph and put it on the passport so I will have an identification in this world. I say to my night guide: "This is just the same as in other stories you hear about ghosts." Meaning that they have no face, no reflection in the mirror. It al- most looks like a temporary post office. I am in two places at the same time. I am in America and I am here in Australia and that is impossible. He nods; he knows the problem. He tells it to his friend in a language I do not understand. So I have to send these things back home and have to pack them and put them in a box. The box is on the right side of the post office. But I cannot take the wooden box that stands there. I have to get another box and my friends are leaving. I do not want to miss the sex, so I say to the post office clerk that I will leave it here and will come back, because in this double life I can do anything without being found out. I feel completely without responsibility. So I run after them down a hill and don't see them. It is a low building and houses are connected in a small settlement. I run around to find them. There are parties going on everywhere. Young people like on the Vineyard. It is seven in the morning. A man comes up to me who has been living in Japan for three months. I say Japan is a great country. We are in Japan. Then I see my friends again, the three men. I am very happy. I hope we will now get to the place. Then I begin to lose the reality. I try to hold on to it, but it fades. I wake up. While I am in this other life I do an experiment. I close my eyes and imagine that I am in this other life. This experiment is very different from actually being there, because when I open my eyes, everything around me is totally real. And I feel it and I know it and I can touch it and it is completely and totally real. Yet when I imagine it with my eyes closed it is still wispy and not real. So the difference between recall and actuality remains the same in the dream world as it is in the physical world.