The dream started out with this Negro maid, this old woman who had a daughter who was in the hospital because she had had an abortion. The daughter had been having this affair with this white man and she thought he was in love with her, but he had never given her any money or help when she was in the hospital or anything, and never acted particularly nice toward her. So we were trying to persuade her that he wasn't the type of person to be with and for her to try to just forget about him and find somebody else and get married. We were also looking fro this person, this man. I had seen him one time and I was going to point him out to somebody else who was with me. I never got a chance to do it. We were in this big restaurant sort of place and there was such a complicating thing. There was a postcard. It was a picture of an elephant which was covered with these strange little insects, and underneath its skin was sot of red and blue. I was telling this person, I believe it was my mother, who I was going to show this man if ever came around, that this was the kind of shirt he had on. We were sitting in this restaurant, waiting in this booth to see if this man would come down. There were a lot of people walking around us and two boys that I used to know from high school were seated across from us. As we sat there, all of a sudden there was this big something. Anyhow we all got thrown around against the table and everything and it was an earthquake. Everybody was standing up. I don't know exactly why we were all standing up to see if it would happen again or not. There was sort of this big tension. Then filing up the stairs in this slow terrible walk came this group of convicts. Apparently there was a prison in the basement, and for some reason, I guess the guards thought the prisoners would be safer upstairs, they were bringing them up. Some of them didn't look particularly different from anybody else. They didn't have a distinctive uniform, although they were dressed in sort of a strange way that set them apart. A lot of them maybe looked leathery looking. Their skin was sort of an odd consistency and they looked very strange. They went on upstairs. Then I got sort of involved with the story of these convicts and I couldn't, I don't know exactly what happened, but I was reading or somebody was telling me the fact that once a year they could give a play that had three characters in it if somebody in the place had written one. And somebody had this year. It was a terrible play. It was written in this flamboyant verse and it had three characters in it, two women and a man, but it was a horrible play. It was funny because it was in this outlandish verse and sort of old-fashioned in that respect and yet it was sort of an expressionistic play too. It was sort of an odd combination.