I was in New York City. Some earthquake had struck. I was going to go into the hospital both to help others and to be a patient. The windows were broken out. There were big mud blots on the outside of the building. A broken water pipe was gushing into one of the rooms. I thought, "Huh, someone could drown." To get into the building, I was being pulled up, hanging by my hands to 2 ropes. It was a sky scraper, very tall, metal and glass. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to hang on, but I did get to the top floor. I got in and checked myself in. Then I was walking out. My kids were waiting. I heard the doctor ask me, "Is the black man or the blossom still there?" (meaning my husband). I reopened the door I had just gone through to answer his question. When he had asked the question, he sounded like he cared. But when I answered, he was talking to 2 other men. I thought, "Uh huh, ain't that how it always is. He doesn't care." I then ran down the stairs, 2 flights. My feet were fast. It was joyful. Then, I was at home. I was going to sit on the couch (chair, room for only one). My father came into the room. He wanted the couch. I think, "O.K., he's first, mom's second and I'm third." I went to another chair. My mother appeared young. She was playing the violin. She was embarrassed and tried really hard. I looked to see that her parents were there and she was trying to please them or catch their attention. My father shushed her. She kept on playing, only she had tried to stop. She had put the bow down and was just fingering the notes. My daughter was pulling the bow across the strings. It was not a good sound.