I see to be awake and thinking of getting to sleep. Its clear that I'm going to sleep and there's some, yeah, it's almost like reality here. I can call them dreams or not depending on mood almost, and in this thing, I guess it's sort of a dream. In this dream I'm telling Roger maybe we better not call this a dream because then Calvin will have to get up. I could have sworn I was awake. It seems like I must not have been exactly awake. There's something here about a Negro and I guess it's a girl in a bright yellow dress, very striking contrast of colors. For some reason I feel rather inferior to this person, and it has something to do with the thought here that in the dream it's this Negro and it's also like I'm thinking about it in general. That everything they gained, every recognition they gain, is in spite of being Negro. Whereas every recognition that the rest of us gain can reflect a number of things, not all of which are any of our own doing.