An older man lets me come live in his home. I am a young woman and my child is Charla. We move in and he shows me the rooms. I feel like a visitor. He sits on the couch and I lay down with my head on his lap. He is kind, but I feel on guard. I get up and he says this is the room. I look around. I am thinking that his wife liked it like this and I must not say what I really feel about it, because it will offend him or hurt his feelings. He asks me what I think about the furnishings and this huge painting he has. I look at the gold, old couch and the garish huge painting. I pause, thinking that his wife must have had meaning for each thing, because the interior design wasn't following a school of thought I could see. I look at the painting. I say, "I don't like it. It's ugly." He smiles happily. It was a test and I passed. Now he goes outside. I call for Charla. She comes down the stairs and there is a small baby there too,  maybe a year and a half old. I go outside to see where the old man is. He is seated, resting in his back yard as a woman and a man are riding mowers and cutting the rich, full, green grass. When he sees me, he hurriedly gets up and gets on a rider mower too and helps cut the grass. I let the baby and Charla play in the yard as I look around. I see that it's a large, square yard that ends abruptly on the left side at a hedge. The left side is just a thin strip of lawn. Beyond the yard is a dry and brown landscape, obviously without care or water, somewhat like M City. I notice the contrast between the lush yard and the surrounding landscape. Then I look for Charla and see her in a tree eating something. I get concerned. I call her to me and demand to know what's in her mouth. I see a long, thin thing like are on oak or some kind of tree that may grow nuts. I want her to open her mouth and she stubbornly refuses. I pry her mouth open and find, instead of the horse chestnut things, a bunch of small plastic packages that sewing things come in. I pull them out saying, "You could swallow these things and get sick. Don't put these in your mouth." I take them back to the porch where a box is that the sewing things belong in. I replace them, hoping the old man doesn't notice. He comes up and sees, but is not concerned.