I'm a high flying trapeze artist in a circus. My partner is a good-looking dark man, perhaps wearing black and a cape. I am afraid of heights, but I am in this act. The dark man is going to set up an accident for Burt Lancaster so he'll be killed. I could be hurt too. Two older police detectives are up there on the trapezes to fight out what's going to happen and save us. They are overweight, pot-bellied, and fumble. One man nearly falls because he couldn't grasp the trapeze. His timing was off, but somehow he manages. They figure out that the dark man has cut the circular ring holding the rigging. They pull it down before Burt gets up there and say, "You are under arrest," to the dark man, who escapes and grabs a mentally retarded girl as his cover. The crowd gasps in horror. I realize I must save her by going in her place. I don't want to, but must and then somehow that bit of the dream is replayed and he is arrested before he can take the girl hostage and he is taken off. Now I hug Burt and it feels so warm and safe. I realize he can't say, "I love you" back, but it's OK. He now is teaching me an act that doesn't involve high flying. He has some little figures on a table and he calls out which one I pick up in my left hand. I pick it up, a figure of an older woman, and its jelly like outer cover comes off in my hand. I try to put it back on because that spoils the trick, but I've messed it up and it's not quite the same. I feel loved. This new act is so safe and pedestrian, but I am glad I don't have to be up there any more. Now Burt is going to fly again and I see him. The dark man had tricked him. Burt was walking into the arena and a group of people seated at a ringside table had their feet way. So he chose to go up a different pole than he usually does. (This was set up by the dark man.) Burt and I are seated ringside watching this as though I am reading an article in a film magazine about it and the pictures are like a movie we're watching Burt in a sexual turn-on to me. I feel alive with sexual desire and he turns and smiles and says, "Being in tights is not a good time to get an erection. We laugh and sit there together knowing that later we will make love. Meanwhile, we see "Burt" go up the wrong or tampered-with pole. It snaps in half and he is smashed as he flies into the broken bottom half, which looks like a huge penis. He is crucified on it and his pain and humiliation is strong. I feel sad for him. Now his friend, another male flyer with a deformed small left arm (like Merle), is going up. I am amazed at how he can do that easily, one-armed. I look for the "continued story" on another page and after leafing through the magazine, I realize the story will be continued in the next monthly issue, April/May, 1991. The words "Break" in white letters on black background indicates the end of this first installment. So I put down the magazine and hug Burt and he suggests I wait until my twin sister is in bed asleep and then come upstairs and we'll make love. I sneak to our bedroom (sister's and mine) and put on a salve that will protect me from sexually transmitted diseases, I wipe off some white residue off the chin just below my lips (like Alka Seltzer foam). I think, "Too bad, one has to be concerned about such things, but I want to be safe and careful." I think Lydia is in bed asleep, but some part of me realizes she is right now upstairs with Burt. I find that amazing that we are sharing him and pretending we aren't. I go upstairs in eager sexual tension and Burt is there, smiling and loving. He's not mine for always, but mine for now.