The Moving Floor Escalator  I'm with people. At different times my friend Hank Anderson and Emerald Reinhold are with me, as well as a man who has a class with Hank and I. I'm on a flat escalator-like surface that moves around the edges, following the contours of the large room we're in. The escalator is 20-30 feet wide, like an entire moving floor. I ride on it for a class. When it abruptly turns around corners I lose my balance and it takes a moment to regain my balance and composure on the moving floor. I'm with an academic group in a non-traditional academic setting. We're outside. There are large mountains in the background. I comment to Emerald about them. They appear large, but I can fathom their size: I understand the size of one mountain in particular. I think it's actually not as large as it appears. The class is having a program of presentations. Hank and I and the man are supposed to present today, but the class hour is almost over: it's 1:48, and there are 12 minutes of class left, so we'll have to present tomorrow. A one-day delay isn't much of a delay, I think. I thought we might have a longer delay.