I decided to go to Lily H's wedding reception. I had been taking a nap on the sofa, though my home looked different than in waking life - more like my birth home. I got up from the sofa and went to get the invitation to check the location and to see if it said anything about gifts.. As I was thinking about all of this I decided that I should return the things that I had borrowed from her - that I could take them with me to the reception. I went and got a portable sewing machine and carried it outside to the car. There was a sidewalk between the house and the driveway that looks like my birth home also. At the crook in the walkway was sitting a base and a cover for the sewing machine. I looked up and saw that my driver's side car door was open as well as the trunk lid. I realized that I had started to put these things in the car the night before, had opened up the car and then forgot about it. I knew my car battery was going to be dead now and I would have to call AAA to come and start it for me. I went ahead and put the sewing machine on the base and put the cover on. I couldn't decide whether to put it on the floor of the back seat or in the trunk. I arrive at the location of the wedding reception and I see six or eight women in bikinis lying in the grass working on their tans. They are all very petite women. I make a comment to someone to the effect that if I had known this I probably wouldn't have come. I went inside and see a row of massage tables. They are all occupied, again with very thin women wearing bikinis. A hostess comes up to me and encourages me to get a massage. As soon as one person, or guest, is finished another takes their place on a table. I notice two small, but different sizes and shapes, vinyl cases sitting on the floor by each table. These are gifts for the wedding guests. I'm thinking what a nice idea this whole thing is for a wedding reception - to give their guests an afternoon of pampering and relaxation. The tables aren't very wide at all - not as wide as even a small body. I watch a couple of other people climb onto the tables first. They are kind of straddling them with their legs and then lying down. That doesn't seem very graceful to me so I attempt to get on another way but find my way to be no more graceful. I don't feel very stable on these narrow tables.. The masseuse asks me if I'm comfortable and I tell her that. She tells me just to relax. The one end of the table has a piece that angles down. She tells me to place my neck at the angle and let my head drop down. I try to figure out what to do with my arms since the table isn't wide enough for me to rest them on the table. She tells me to cross my wrists above my head. Another woman is trying to talk me into dying my hair. I am very hesitant but notice that they are doing this to all the other guests as well. I finally agree to let her do what she is suggesting. As I am waiting for her to complete that process someone else walks up to me and makes a comment about my new hair color. She hands me a mirror and I try not to become concerned or upset. My hair looks orange. I do become concerned and the woman who colored my hair comes up and I and the other woman both express our concern. Now a manager comes up and the four of us are talking about what to do about it. The manager and the person who did it don't think they can do anything about it. The first woman who said something to me doesn't seem to agree with them. I decide to just have them wash it out and dry my hair. I privately tell the first woman that I'll just go home and recolor it myself to try to fix it. I tell her that it's not the first time that I haven't been happy with such an attempt and I've been able to fix it that way before. I show her a standard size piece of paper that has full color printing and pictures of some type on it. I'm showing it to her because it shows that what they tried to do started out fine, like it was fine on one side of the paper, but then it didn't work on the other side. It seems that maybe one side of the paper looked fine but the other side looked like the paper had been folded and the print and images had transferred from one section of the paper to the other. I tell someone that I brought the things with me that I wanted to return to Lily H. A man that I know is standing nearby and overhears me. He offers to walk out to my car with me and move the things to Lily and Richard H's car. As we're walking out to my car I tell him that four years ago when I lost my job at the hospital, Lily H loaned me a portable sewing machine and a small TV and I have just recently been able to replace them. He smiles and nods his head as I am talking, in recognition of this helping characteristic of Lily H.