I, the dreamer is observing myself in this dream. I am standing in the back yard of my house. Which is the front yard of a man like Tyler I am staring in horror at the flames spreading from the next door apartment I was living in to the house my kids and I live in. As I am watching, I slowly realize that I am simply standing there, watching the fire grow and spread. I suddenly remember Charla is upstairs in the bedroom close to the outside wall next to the flaming apartment. I run into the house and upstairs calling frantically for Charla. As I rush into the house, I stop and see firemen coming to put out the fire in the apartment. Then I go into  the bedroom and search for Charla calling out for her repeatedly, scared she is dead. I find her in her bed sleeping and call to her to wake up. She slowly wakes up and I pick her up and run out of the house with her. Now I am back in the back yard having returned to the comfort of the man. There are several other men there and I stand there holding Charla who is actually like a limp rag doll, hanging nearly upside down and in my left hand a fist full of dollars, which are turning into fake money. Some of the young men had found some of the money I dropped as I had run across the lawn. I tell them it is mine, but they don't believe me. Apparently I had, while rescuing Charla, stood there for a moment thinking about what other important Items I should grab up and take with me. Suddenly I remember I don't know where the other two girls are. I am frantic and run back to the house, upset with, myself for not being able to remember to rescue them in the first place. How could I have forgotten them? I look in the windows from the outside to see if they are in their bedroom, on the far side of the house away from the fire. No one there. I fleetingly wonder if Howard is there. I go back in and back upstairs. I go into my bedroom, which is across the hall from Charla's bedroom. I repeatedly cross the hall to her bedroom looking in to see the condition of the meter that shows status of the fire and the electrical workings of the house. I am concerned about it. It won't go back to normal and so I worry there is something still wrong. I am tired and lie down on my bed. It is dark and I hear men coming up the stairs. A policeman is bringing Howard home, drunk. The talk at the door way of my bedroom. Then Howard comes in stumbling and falls dead drunk on my bed. I get up immediately, upset and angry. A grown daughter with several of her children and her husband come up the stairs. She comes in. I say to her. There he is, drunk. I hate that man. The husband says to me "Give him a break. It's only once." I am furious with the husband and I rush up to him, causing him to back up. I yell at him. You don't know all the things I've gone through with him. You have no right to talk to me like that." He thinks I'm crazy or a bitch. The daughter, holding one child and the other child sleeping on the floor downstairs, is now sitting on my bed with an open bible. She is upset about not being able to learn her bible lesson for tomorrow's service. She is saying "I don't remember if it was Ezeakial or Issaih or who that said whatever to whomever." I remember again I still don't know where Dovre and Paulina are. I go back down the hall and start to pass a second bedroom. I pause, go back and into that bedroom to find Dovre on the floor (she is perhaps 8 or 9 years old.) She is still sleeping. I shake her repeatedly to wake her. Finally she sleepily responds. I find Paulina/Ellie as a toddler, maybe 2 years old, in the bed all curled up and sleeping. I pick her up and try to wake her as well. She turns into a plastic toy. I carry them both out of the room, relieved to have found them and not understanding how they could have slept through so much for so long! I recheck the meter. I ask my daughter's husband to look it over as well. He says it's fine. I don't believe him and go in to look again. I pull open the top drawer in a dresser to see a stack of old letters. Love letters, I think but as I look at them, I see they are letters from men I knew long ago but not real close. One was a military young man named Brent. I close the drawer. I look at the meter again. I return to my bedroom. There is now another bed and several phones on it. One of them rings. I am surprised because it is the middle of the night. I answer it to hear Dovre asking me Do I have a phone? I hang up. I then explain to my grown daughter how I was so slow to respond to the fire. I told her I just stood there in the apartment looking at the small flames thinking it will go out on its own. Then as it spread, I watched it, dully not feeling any concern. Then when it was almost too late, I suddenly realized the danger for me and my children. I feel stupid and neglectful. I feel guilty for not remembering Dovre and Paulina.