I am concerned because I forgot to take my pills and I need to do it now. I go into a lobby of a restroom. Someone is helping a woman take a shower. I am uptight. As I pull out my pill bottle, I notice with concern I don't have very many left. Aunt Bridget comes in as I'm dumping them out on the counter to count them. She says, "I saw your poster. It's good but..." and I said impatiently, "No negative comments. I can't take them right now." She turned and left, embarrassed saying, "Thank you for hearing that in my voice. Of course you don't want negative stuff now." I feel a little guilty but OK. I see pills of different sizes and shapes and I'm trying to figure out which ones to take. I ask Bridget's advice on one very ornate, flat pill as to whether it says 2 or 3 milligrams. Another pill turns out to be the manufacturer's label and another one an applique. I then find big fat ones, some green and some yellow. The 20 milligram size (like Percadans), I try to get one out and it's like taffy. I scoop it up on my finger and eat it off my finger. I think I've taken 25 milligrams. I had chocked on a "5" pill and it had dissolved in my throat like an aspirin with some of the sticky residue left on my finger. Bridget says, "I know about air dynamics" and pulls it off and throws it like a paper airplane across the room. I feel nervous because I don't know if I've had enough medicine. So I follow it into the next room. Hank and other counselors are there. Hank says, "I see we're in the same room, but I don't know if we're doing the same thing." He continued, "It's like taking time out at a Christian and the Lion to let the Christians pick up the wounded." I laugh, falsely and say, "Yeah. Like you are in there, tsk tsk, sign up for classes," and I'm there. "Are you feeling OK?" I was surprised he brought it up. He has his hand on my knee warmly supportive. Then Ellie (3 years old) crawls up on his lap. He is pleasantly surprised. "I didn't think I'd still be considered for such an honor." I see the smaller baby and pick her up. She turns into a magazine without a pretty picture on the cover. It's like I'm competing with Hank and I'm last.