I'm on a train-like thing and going to a writer's contest or something. I sit next to my "teacher" a short, pudgy guy in a brown sweater (sort of like Marshall Peters). He loves me and I feel warm about him, but won't admit it. We talk about my writing. I am flip and confident; I did well. He questions me. I see a man like Dennis of writing class. He's furiously writing. I put my head suddenly on the teacher's shoulder and say, "I guess I'll take a nap." He likes that I nestle there, but he's agitated because he wants to confess his love and doesn't have confidence. He says something and I look up and we kiss, hesitantly. We smile. The deed is done. We understand that we love each other. Another young man says, "Maybe you should be working on your writing." I shrug. The young man reads a sentence from Dennis' work and I realize I had misjudged him. He can write well; I thought he was just a kook. The teacher and I decide to get on this futuristic train-like thing that goes very fast to go get my script and read it closely to see if I need to rewrite. We sit in the leaned back seats and feel the immense pressure of takeoff and the pressure of the speed. Will we survive it? Yes.