I am in a closet. There are lots of old clothes on the rack. Small rodents live there too (rabbits or rats). I am seated and Ellie is at my right. I'm looking out through the doors to a show Rochelle is doing. She is old and wrinkled and walking. She is doing a comedy act. I say to Ellie, "Look how old Rochelle looks." I am shocked. To my left are two faucets that don't work properly. The water comes out like a shower head, only some of the small streams of water are cut off. A plump, hippie type man sits next to the faucet, facing me at a perpendicular angle. He can fix the faucet. Now Ellie is between me and the faucets and she is telling me she got a terminally affection psychosis. Her face changes to a baby face looking expectant for affection. The face keeps changing back and forth from baby to her. I pat the cheek of the baby face and say, "Sweet baby." I try to give it some of the affection it craves (is hungry for). I feel tired and unable to give it the quantities it needs. I feel more and more tired myself till I am nearly comatose. A small baby girl (1 year) comes to me. I scoop her up in my arms and kiss her. She says, "I don't want to be kissed." I say, "Good for you to say so. I should have asked first." Then she gives me a kiss. I love her very much. I am walking, holding her and an adolescent boy comes in front of us and sits with his leg on a hard cover book (Hamlet's Mill?). I yell at him, "Get your leg off that!" He looks upset at my ferocious rudeness and looks to his father for direction. He then gets up and goes away. I say roughly, "It's OK. You can stay. I really wanted the other side anyway." I go to a similar setup across from where he was and sit to play intently with the baby. I am lying on a shelf on a ledge. I'm tired. Another woman picks up my original lecture papers and a handout. I ask her to give them back. She refuses. There is a power struggle. I choose not to fight. She takes the papers and goes down the ladder. I feel like I gave up and then lost. I am angry.