A couple started their relationship very loving and richly caring. Then it became fighting and distant. I come into the house and see fettucine on the floor, not cleaned up. I go in and am wishful of the beginning time again when things were loving. Now I am in the streets, trying to find City Hall, the City Planning Department. I guess I need a permit or something. Another woman, perhaps a sister, and I are lost. I see a building and go over to it and realize this is it. I go in. There are marble floors, fancy signs, etc. I see the directory. I can't make out what floor the department is on. I go to the elevator and get in, determined to go to each floor, although I think it is maybe 4th floor or 9th floor. A young man comes into the elevator backwards with an old ritualistic step, like a hop (Raymond like feet). I get out and have found the office. My sister Lydia is there and a man. I am looking around the nearly empty room thinking this would be a great room to do my writing in. I go to a window with an attic-like enclosure structure around the window, which makes an alcove, and think, "This would be where I'd love to put my writing desk." I go there and notice that when I sit there, I can see a lovely view of an old Victorian house out the other window. Now the man is in love with Lydia and we are wearing old-fashioned long silk dresses (1800's). She has black hair tied up in ringlets and mine is blonde. The man wants us to go to his house. We do. He is very rich and the house is a Victorian mansion. He introduces Lydia to his mother; they try on a bridal gown for her. I try to take a picture of her and look through the lenses of her glasses to take the picture. One lens is scorched and scratched from her having looked through it. I look at her through it and say, "Too bad the colors won't turn out well. I guess I'll take the picture just to have a memory snapshot. It won't be a good picture." I snap the picture and finish the roll of (reel?) film. I start to open the back of the camera too quickly. I hope I didn't ruin the picture. Now Lydia and the man's mother go out of the room to make arrangements for the wedding. The man comes over to me; he also secretly loves me. I am aware of his feelings and try to deflect or ignore them. I look out the window as he tries to press his face near mine and tries to turn my face so he can kiss me. Finally I say, without giving him much eye contact, "You love my sister, sir. This cannot be." He is sad. He now wants to give me a tour of the house. He goes down to the end of a hall and opens a door. I look in. It's a bedroom, fairly modern and ordinary looking. There are two beds, one with a yellow bedspread, one with a blue-green one. I say, shocked, "Why have you shown me a private room?" I realize it is his bedroom. I turn and start to walk away, down the hall. He goes into the room and comes back out hurriedly with a small box that has a bird egg collection. It was his when he was a boy. I am touched. Then Lydia and his mom returns and he hurriedly covers the bird's egg collection with a piece of cloth so they won't see. Somehow this is too intimate for our relationship. Lydia is carrying a huge tray with goblets and things on it. It is too heavy for her and I see from her eyes she is on the verge of being hysterical. He takes the tray from her to help and I say to him, "Take care of her," and I leave the house. I am vaguely aware they are going to send out their car to take me home, but I don't know for sure, so I hesitate and look around. I see a big square limo (more shaped like a hearse, only more box-like). It is picking up or leaving off a young woman in a wheelchair; must be the neighbors. I start to walk. I stop and hesitate again looking back. I see a regular, but fancy car. Maybe that's it. A woman comes around the porch of the neighbor's house and I offer to buy a candy in her tray for a ruble. I see a second boxy limo and walk back. Another woman comes over and says in an angry haughty voice that she is appalled I would offer a ruble to the neighbor woman, thinking she was the maid. Something about not being in my own class and putting on airs.