I'm in an elevator lobby - looks like a hotel but it's a lot like a department store, too, and it's really the library - where I work. There's a bunch of doors, but the regular elevators aren't coming and I get on this one off to the side, that was a temporary installation for a special event. All the place is pretty elegant, even this "extra" one, but this one is a bit flimsy. When I get to the floor it's as if the walls don't go all the way up, like a screen. The building has a lot more floors but this elevator goes only from 1-5. Apparently they aren't used as much. It has a bend in it for some reason, for a minute I think I can get out the back opening, but I can't. I go out the front. This may not be the floor I work on, but I know the people here. I'm turning to go to the office, and here come two great big black panthers. They're behaving a lot like guard dogs, checking me out. I'm scared, but not big scared, since they're not attacking. I'm pretty sure they will if I do the wrong thing, though, and I'm anxious to get away from them. I carefully sidle away - they lose interest and go over to a counter, around the corner from the bank of elevators, and investigate a very small child. The kid is snatched up quickly. I'm thinking maybe guard-panthers is not such a good idea, people will complain. I go find the office, and talk to Sherry for a bit. I see a flyer for a music festival. It sounds really neat - I tell Sherry I'd really like to do this. She says her whole office is going, it's a big party of theirs. I only just came back from there but I don't know why I shouldn't go back this soon if I want to. I'm very excited. I tell Sherry how I liked the place and want to go too and she says sure come along. I'm stopping to visit at a house; I have a companion but I don't know who he is. The house is a nice little frame one where a man lives with his daughter. They offer me a bit of a cake that came in a box with a cellophane window on the lid. It's not big and it's not all that good but I keep going back for more. I sneak other little bites and finally cut off a big chunk and butter it. Then I figure I better have 2, so I take another and start to hide it in my jacket. Then I realize how little of the cake is left, and they've got hardly any for themselves and they'll certainly know where it went. But I don't want to put any back. I guess I will, though, but I may not have the opportunity. I'm getting ready to go somewhere, that's why I wanted the cake for later. I go and come back. The guy I'm travelling with is outside trying to turn the van (or car) around in the driveway - having trouble. He says the man in the house just up and died, so he couldn't help. I'm quite surprised. The guy wasn't all that old. He says he just keeled over. It crosses my mind that we'll probably be left something of his property because we were there when he died.