Father Andrew is drinking tea and asks me for a piece of lemon. It is a small piece, like a seed, and when I reach for it, it flips away. I feel bad and apologize. Then he embraces me, cheek to cheek, a long time, and I feel forgiven.  I am at a retreat: I see a long line of people on a busy street; one of the priests is wearing a white satin vestment; I say "He looks like a clown." We are all dressed in modern dresses. I am in a small group that is to do its "thing." I think it is silly. I ask "How long? What? How long will I live?" I am told that is not a question you can ask. I say "I think I was born out of this century; the materialism bothers me so much."  We are polishing a large container or a plastic envelope that holds a treatise by Wilder(!) Father Andrew has a shop where he sells fine oriental clothes and other imported items. I look them over and buy several scarves and also a set of lipsticks. Then I say good-bye to Father Andrew and kiss him 3 timeson the cheek and squeeze his hands and give him a hug.