I've moved into a place. I notice that we only brought the furniture this time and the move is much easier because I left behind all those boxes of papers and my writings. Dwight and I are talking about what we're going to be. I say, "I wanted to be an artist and I wanted to be a writer but it's not going to happen. I used to be a counselor and a teacher but I can't do that anymore because of my arthritis," (and I feel a bit guilty about that because I know that's not completely true). I feel like I'm drifting. I don't know what I want to do. Dwight is hungry and opens up a cupboard where I'd cooked left-over lunch, taco pizza. It looks pretty gross, but he eats it anyway. Now, I'm trying to run a writer's group, with Aunt Elaine and some young cousins, maybe Uncle Lionel. I can't get them to get settled down. They wander around and giggle and talk and interrupt and leave and come back. Finally in exasperation I say, "This is like teaching kindergarten kids!" They are sympathetic and try to come to order. Suddenly, I see a huge plastic air-filled duck drop down, like in Mace's parade balloon. It falls into the hedge near the windowed wall. I am amazed and go over, thinking suddenly, "Maybe there's someone in it. Maybe it's an alien from outer space." I get closer and see that there is something in it, eight babies. I say, "Someone call 911 and get the police...no, the medical people first, to take a look at those babies!" Someone goes to call. We wait and wait. It's taking them far too long and we get suspicious they've sent for the military. I say, "There's no way I'll let the military guys come in here first without making sure the babies are all right." A man now comes in a navy uniform, only it's a captain of the work crew that's been building the submarine complex out in the bay or ocean right outside the windows. Someone had called him about the duck, Murphy Salvage, or something. I explain we're first waiting for the hospital people. I put in another call. They are cold, distant and confused. Now I'm alarmed they are up to something. The Captain pulls me aside to talk. I say to him, "Too bad your sub isn't ready yet," because I know he's just recently sent up a work crew to rest or something and it was empty. He says, "Well, it is working, technically. A few men are down there. It's almost ready for its shake-down cruise." I look at him, wondering if we could hide down there. He then smiles at me and begins to say something like, "I've always liked you but somebody had to do or say something to let the other know they're interested." I look at him surprised. He then leaps off the table he's sitting on and gently but insistently pushes me up against the windowed wall, where outside the waters are churning turbulently. He kisses me. I am aware that it's an OK kiss but not really exciting and he's OK looking but not all that handsome. I think, "He has tufts of hair in his ears and a bit of a paunchy belly." After the kiss, I say to him, "Well, I never even thought of this as a possibility before." I pause as he waits, thinking over my feelings, and then I say, "I'm willing to 'work at' the possibility and see what happens." (I use an academic word that starts with "A" for "work at.") He is very happy. He has a chance. We are all going to hide the duck on his sub and he will court me in those rough waters.