I pick up a Life magazine from about 1954 and it has picture of William Cowper Brann, a "man hated when alive because he was an iconoclast, but now honored in his home town, his home a memorial." Suddenly, I was in Arizona near Frank Lloyd Wright's "Talisen West" and in the desert I see a white mother cat with four little white cats following her. She goes up hill to a big house and I enter and it is home of Brann himself, and he is surrounded by four boys, his students. On the mantle are several volumes he and the boys have written, "Flora and Fauna of the Arizona Desert." I look at one of them and I open it and Brann comes up and stands by me and touches my penis thru my clothes, and I wonder if he's a homosexual. And I wonder how far I should let him go, so I can read his amazing and useful books.