Takes place in the upstairs suite of a double house. Some sort of informal party is going on consisting of friends from various musical groups. No one in particular except a boy, C., my own age with whom I associate a great deal, having known him since childhood. He plays no particular part in the dream, is merely present. A man, B., about 35-40, arrives. We see him first outside in front of the house, standing by a car and talking to several people. Then he is in the room. (He is not particularly popular with our group. He is the leader of an organization to which C and I belong and, in our opinion, doing a very poor job of organizing and leading and being very pompous and conceited about it.) He is holding a thermos bottle of Coca-Cola and he spills some on the shoulders of his overcoat. He pours the rest of the drink over himself, and stands there with a look on his face which is typical, a sort of stupid, self-conscious grin, as if he is worrying about what people are thinking of him.