I am leaning against a wall and talking to an Uncle, maybe Uncle Joel, whose wife is dead now. I am sympathetic. He leans on the wall with me and puts his arm around my shoulders comfortably. We chat. It feels nice to be comforted like that. He's very tall. Later, I am the "star" of a TV piece, where I am like a Murphy Brown character. I am standing at the edge of a lake or ocean facing back toward land where a crowd of people is gathered to watch. I am reminding them that years ago I did a role and this is very much like it. Did they remember the name of the character I did then? They didn't. They didn't much care. I dither on for a while, but can't get their interest. Suddenly, a mistake is made and the crew all disappears. I am left alone and a huge black Doberman is coming toward me, growling. I back away, saying, "Nice doggie." I throw him a pencil to bite on, but he keeps coming for me. I toss him a book, maybe my script book, and he spits it out and is loping right behind me as I run for the cover of the pickup truck. Where is the crew when you need them?