I am asleep in my office. I think I have the door shut. I'm very tired. I wake up and realize the door was open and probably people had walked by and seen me asleep on the job. A man walked up to the door and asked to come in to speak to me. I was on a couch. I said, "Come in," trying to be professional. I folded up the blanket and set it aside. I saw that the room was crowded with furniture, my desk, the couch, a school desk and a chair. The man spoke with an accent, Spanish I think. He seemed shy. I had difficulty understanding what he said. He said he was a representative of the telephone company and wanted to have an explanation of the MMPI. He showed me a letter that had a picture of people on it (drawn), and the statement 75%, one out of 4 makes us be this way (employers were complaining because their sick employees blamed them). I said, "Ah." I asked him his name. He said, "Don Juan Sanchos." I wanted to call him Paul. He had sad eyes. He seemed intense. I said, "I'll have to ask my supervisor as this is privileged information. I think it will be all right." I stepped out of the office and into Dylan's office. I said, "There's a rep from Ma Bell and he wants to see the MMPI manual. He seems legitimate. He wants to know about the 1 in 4 %'s." Dylan went to the counter to get the test. He said, "Someone else wants to see it too. Shall you do it or I?" "I could do it. I've done it once and I have taken a class. But I'd like you to do it. I'll watch and learn more." He agreed. I went back to my office. One of the desks was now a bed. It was like a dorm room (3 beds). I told them what happened and that Dylan would tell us out in the hall. Don Juan and Paul started whispering and giggling. I sat on the bed with my long skirt flowing around me. I said, "What is it?" They say, "Oh, nothing." I go to the bed directly opposite where they were sitting. Paul moved, so it was Don Juan and me. I adjust my skirt since as I plopped down on the bed. I had lost balance and fell back some, showing my feet and underslip. I giggled. I looked at Don Juan intently (counselor) and said, "Something's on your mind. I won't start the MMPI until you tell me." I lean forward; we are very close. He's shy and whispered, so I lay my head on his arm to hear better. It was a very soft and intimate moment. Soft laughter bubbled inside me. He whispered, "I'd like to ask you out on a date." I smiled and said (into his arm with a coy glance at his eyes), "The sooner the better." We laughed. (Before, he'd mutter and I'd say, "What," and he'd say, "Oh, nothing," but I knew what he said. "You didn't tell me you could walk"). My wheelchair was parked over to the side of the room. We went out into the hall. Chairs were set up. A whole class was in there. The only place to sit was on the same chair with Don Juan. It felt nice. We watched and listened as Dylan explained the test. He started by saying, "The mid-line in the eye is very important," and went up to a girl in the front row (she's shy). He examined her eye, nose to nose. It looked funny and we laughed (I remember having done these kinds of funny gestures in a skit). Later, I was going across campus (like L or University). I was thinking, "Where would be the best place to park my van so I have the least amount of walking between classes. I have one class in the Math building, one in the Home EC building." I then went to the "women's center office." Andrea was there. I told her of Don Juan. She said, "He's been here before, you know." Then I remembered that a year ago, when I was sick and in the chair, he came asking for the same information. I shared that I thought he came back because he liked me and I proudly told how I had been able to speak out and tell him that I'd like to go out with him, and then I felt a little badly because I remembered that I was still being passive. I hadn't set up the details of when we'd go out. I had been indirect again and I felt sure he'd pursue it.