(08/02/98)["Grade A Papers"]  I am attending a conference. A large crowd is in a large room. As I come in, the star of the entertainment Buddy C., a comedian, takes my purse. Someone else takes my wallet to put somewhere for safe keeping. This seems quite normal. I feel fine about it. I sit on the ground. I look high up at a balcony where we are watching a news reporter and Buddy C. doing a comedy routine of funny faces and pauses. I am surprised old sober sides the reporter can be funny. He hams it up. Now it is time to leave. I ask a man, like Charles of the conference in California, if I may borrow his car. He happily agrees. I walk around a graveled hill to the gas station parking lot. I get into his fancy black car and drive. I am conscious of being very careful so I don't hurt the car. I feel responsible. I return to the same spot and get out of the car. I clean up my piles of papers from the conference. I see several of my reports I wrote at the conference. One has a big red "A" on it. I say to a woman friend Last year I didn't even turn in a report. The year before that I got a boring "b" minus. I am very proud of my important "A" grade. I pick up many small scraps of paper I had made cutouts with. I want to return the car in good condition.