I am prospecting for gold in a desert-like area. Lots of men are there. One man, like Christopher Reeves, is in love with me. I love him too. He wants us to get married. I love him, but am not willing to marry. I want my independence. We strike it rich. I say to him, "I have something I have to talk to you about." He says, frustrated, "I can't talk about it any more. I say, "It's not about that! This is something else you probably won't like to hear." I smile at him gently like it's a joke, only it's not. Now he is seated in an easy chair and I am kneeling in front of him, my head on his chest, my arms around his chest between his legs, hugging him. He is aroused and says sexily and lovingly, "You're on my heaven. Let's get married." I say, sleepily or slowly, "How about you stay here and work the claim for a year while I go away, and travel, and then I'll return and you travel for a year and I'll work the claim." He is deeply hurt and sad because that would mean we are apart. I feel a bit guilty about asking this. The scene shifts and I have chosen to run away. I go out into the desert and want to die. I lay down with dead beetles and a video camera and am going to wait until I dehydrate, but somehow I survive for years. Now a woman comes and says to me, "I know you want to die, I'm sorry to bother you, but...." and I say, "No, I've decided not to die. Help me." She helps me back home to the claim. I am exhausted, dehydrated and older. I come into the house, which used to be a cabin he and I shared. Now there are children and babies of his, sleeping in beds, and lots of furniture. I am sad, but I am happy for him. He comes to me hesitantly. He still loves me deeply. I know I hurt him badly. I say, "I do love you. I'm sorry I hurt you. Is it too late?" He hugs me and I know we will be together.