I am in a neighborhood, where all the houses are different and they're all old, and really interesting-looking - there's a lot of green, tall, overarching trees - you can barely see the sunlight. It's really gorgeous. I am looking for a house, and I think I know what street it's on, but I'm not exactly sure which - I know which street it's on, I'm not exactly sure where the street is placed in this little area here. If I can find it, I know what it looks like. There is a large, mean, dog in the area; I'm wanting to avoid it, but I can't be sure exactly where it is, because of not knowing which street is which. I seem to be walking, but part of the time I'm riding, because my mind is telling me all these things about how I'm gonna handle this dog business - I am afraid it's just going to come up and rip me to shreds, is the main thing - another is that I can handle this - this is what I keep telling myself; the dog will not necessarily attack me, even though it may bark a lot, especially if I am riding on this vehicle - this may be enough to keep it from coming too close to me. It's not inside of a car, by the way, it's more like being in a jeep or something where I am exposed, but there is a moving vehicle under me. I think about the mastery that some people have over dogs and animals, whereby if you retain confidence and show them that you are not afraid and you order them to stop, or sit, or something like that, they'll stop attacking you, which is nice. Basically I haven't run into this dog yet, and I've come to the end of the street, where there's a cross-street, and decided to turn left, because I think the street I want may be parallel to the left and I go a couple of streets further and find that I'm coming to another dead end where it makes a right angle with the last street of this part, and that's definitely not it, I know that one is not it, especially since I can see the building at the end of the street, which is not a house - maybe a hotel, something like that - small place, and I know that I must be going in the wrong direction, so I turn around. But while I'm there I run into somebody that I know - friend of mine, I guess, who's with somebody else who's got a couple of big dogs - this is not the mean dog - I should call these mastiffs, or something that size that type, very big, stolid, dogs, and this person is not necessarily Dirk, but is like Dirk - he's just gonna ramble on here, as I join them to walk the other direction, and I listen to him go on and on about how these dogs are going to make his living - in hunting, in some capacity. I don't really know in my own mind while I'm there, where it is he means to hunt them, or what precisely he means to hunt - I think it's a fur-bearing animal - that seems to be the upshot of it - but while I'm listening to him go on about this I'm thinking, this is ridiculous, get yourself a real job, these dogs don't want to do all this for you - and he's talking as if these dogs are real "killers", _____ dogs, tough dogs, and I'm thinking, this is pitiful - they just want to be petted! They're really nice-looking dogs - I think they might be fun to have around, they don't look like they mean to be tough at all. I'm thinking about getting an opportunity to pet one of 'em - the great big black _____ thing that's walking next to me, actually. Frankly, I'm getting a little bit bored doing this in the first place, and I have got my own place to get to. So I sort of duck away from them after a while. However, before I do that, we have turned right and gone down one of these streets - having not found the house that I was looking for on it - this hotel seems to be where the business district starts right away, and the opposite side of it is more nearly city street. We have come through the kitchen, where there is this counter-thing running along where some cooks are working, it's a butcher-block type of thing, and I know that they cut meat and whatnot there, and prepare a lot of food. We have come up to this, and they're asking questions, like directions, or information, and I'm just waiting there. I've got this binder in my hands - in my arms, actually, a small stack of things - notebooks, etc. - and I lay them on the counter - as it were, you have your arms crossed in front of you holding these things, and just to rest my arms, I lay them on the counter, and then a minute later I snatch them up again, realizing, "Oh hell, these things have got germs on them and this is a food preparation area - somebody's food's gonna be contaminated with this stuff, whatever it may be." I'm really quite embarrassed about that - nobody has noticed it particularly or said not to do that, but I'm wanting to clean it off so that everything will be ok again, and they're still talking. This is where we part company, the guys with the dogs, and I'm gonna go on through the hotel here. I'm looking for Arsenio Hall - I'm supposed to have a visit with him. Maybe it's an interview (though I don't know what I would be interviewing him for), and I'm supposed to meet him somewhere - and the fact is that I run into him in the front hallway. This front hallway is kind of like a lot of little hotels that I went to in England. It's certainly no big flashy hotel - it's got this comfortable little lobby and a tiny service desk, and he is out there. I'm guessing he's staying here, and has just come down to do something at the desk. There's another person there, probably the desk clerk (or someone else associated with the hotel), and they're just chatting. It's night now, in this hotel, and there's this laid-back sort of attitude going on, where you just sort of stand around and chat. So, since I have run into him, I'm telling him what it is that I want, and we fix up that he's going to come along to the house that I'm staying at overnight, and visit with me there after a while. So I go out the front door, down some steps, and then I come to the house I'm staying at, which is my grandmother's house. (It's not the real Bigmama's house on Vanderbilt, but the street is something like it, and the house something like hers, only my grandmother is really like Grandmom, and later on that is exactly what I call her.) She is old - not especially decrepit - and forgetful and a little silly, maybe, but not helpless by any means - slow. We're upstairs, she's dithering over something or other, and I'm just helping her do something, and chatting. The reason I'm here, I think, is maybe because it's convenient for me to do something else, being here. I'm living in the apartment I have now, very satisfactorily, and I don't think that I'm in Grandmom's house just to help out - I think it's something to do with me. Now my brother comes along, and he has got a deal to say on the subject of Grandmom and me and the situation. She's gone downstairs, and he is telling me that I am going to have to move in here and take care of her. Apparently they have got this all worked out ("they" being my other relatives, such as they may be), and I guess there's even a lawyer involved, that they've fixed this all up, that I'm to move in here, and take care of things because she is no longer able to take care of herself. Which is what they say. And I'm going along with this for a bit, feeling sad about it, and hurt, without really paying any attention to it. Until it dawns upon me a few minutes later, "Wait a minute! Num - ber - one: I don't WANT to move in here! I have my own place; that is where I live; I want to live there; I like it; I have my life there, and I don't wanta move in here, and I don't see why you should tell me to do that. Number two: I don't even see how come she needs to be taken care of so bad. I don't think she's done anything all that drastically bad, maybe you think that she needs help, and that's all very well, but why do you think you need to tell me to do this? Number Three: I have you, and a cousin (and maybe another brother or sister or two - but I don't know - it's in my mind there's other siblings here), and just what is wrong with any of you coming to live here? What do you think it has to be me for? And I'm not gonna do it! How's that?" He seems to be a bit disappointed, and to think that this is an idle protest, and it's not gonna do me any good at all, because it's a done deal - of course I'm gonna do this. The more it goes on, the more I'm aware that I am not. I am simply not gonna stand for being pushed around like this.