My baby cousin Betsie, an Army associate of mine, and I were sitting in a restaurant in the neighborhood of the WRU campus. The suggestion was made to leave and go elsewhere for a while. The place chosen was another eating place in the vicinity which had closed for the night. (It is really open all the time.) We knocked on the side door and were admitted to a view of the floor show then in progress. The attraction of the evening was a fraternity brother of mine who was introducing the next act: a group of singers who were to sing in old Scotch dialect. Involved somehow in the dream was a bet in which I lost a sum of money.