Carrying my golf clubs, I walk to a "Mr. Messengers" house. On this trip, there seems to be nobody home. In the backyard stands a one-story frame building, possible a woodshed. Having a key to the door I unlock it, enter the building, and sit down on a box. There are at least 2 rooms, and the floor is of wood. I begin to write out my dream of previous night which was as follows: It is 2 p.m. I am in my bedroom dressing, just putting on shoes. Glancing out of window I notice a lady and several children on the street. The lady looks in my direction and, because both shades are up, probably sees me; or so I think. (This ends the dream of a dream). On a second trip to Messengers I find construction work in progress. Dirt is being dumped onto a terrace in front of house. A large truck, loaded with dirt, takes a running start in order to climb the short but steep bank of the terrace. The truck gets up all right but very nearly continues on into yard. The driver, however, by applying the brakes suddenly and hard stops the truck just in time. He then sticks his head out, looks .... the truck passed. The tree appears to be uninjured. There is a bed of flowers on the terrace and the workmen are removing (for transplanting in their own yards) the flowers just fast enough to keep ahead of the dirt dumping. A black man is speaking of a certain plant which he wants. It is dark, almost black, in color, with richly (deep) colored flowers. It looks like a black petunia.