I was taking care of two young Asian children.  They were living in the same room and the younger boy was to move across the hall.  In the kitchen, juice was spilled.  My stuffed pig Albert was clean, but my stuffed ghost Jerome was not.  My mother's friend Jill Block was 'teaching' a class in the living room.  We were supposed to get up and discuss a certain given topic that we'd supposedly prepared for.  The first guy did, and I asked to go to the bathroom before I did mine.  When I came back, she already had the next going.  He was talking about numbers in tiger stripes.  Then I was going to do mine.  I'd decided to talk about life as three interlocking circles.  The self, society, and the world.  When they came apart, something was wrong.