I have met a young man who professed to be in love with me. He thinks I am the greatest thing since sliced bread, hugely entertaining, beautiful, enchanting - he can't get enough of me, and wants to be at my side every minute. He wants to give me everything, and has bought me presents, lots of them. There's a big shopping bag with boxes in it, all wrapped. I'm overwhelmed, barely know what to say. He's awfully nice (if a bit over-energetic and bouncy), and nice-looking too. Sandy or reddish hair, on the slender side, jeans and shirt or T-shirt... I do like him a lot, but couldn't say I love him, not yet anyway, this is happening awfully fast. We're in a public place, sort of - open hallways, a wide "T" intersection, generally featureless but comfortable, sitting on a wall bench or something. Other people go by sometimes. It's right before Christmas, and a group forms, mostly my family, including my father, and we're exchanging Christmas presents. I'm being given lots of nice things, and my boyfriend is giving me even more stuff; eventually I realize that I haven't even opened the first presents yet, this is just more than I can handle. Overwhelming.I am somewhat infirm. My legs and hips don't work right, I can't bend or walk properly. I think this is part of my attraction for this young man, and it's nice to have so much attention when I feel so shy and inadequate. He helps me get this little vehicle - it's something more like a go-kart than a wheelchair - and I really am grateful for the mobility. But I have somewhere else to be, so I have to leave. He doesn't want me to go, of course, but it's not going to be long - we tear ourselves away from each other. Along the way I am at a little "antique shop". It's a kind of open-air thing - cute furniture, figurines, that sort of thing - run by a rather testy dilettante and a friend or two. I'm looking at a little table, and want to see it (or something under it) closer, so I put both hands on it to steady me while I carefully lower myself down to a squat. With my weight partially on this table, it starts to tilt - it turns out to be very unstable, even though it looks sturdy enough. We both nearly crash. A big heavy vase, however, slides forward and off. It falls to the ground, and a round "ear"-handle piece breaks off of it. At least it didn't smash all to pieces, I figure, though the shop owner is looking quite anxious. She's been watching me anyway, like I was not up to her usual quality of customer anyhow - now she looks as if she's waiting to see if I'll offer to pay for the vase. I think I'd just as soon wait to see if she'll ask me to pay for it, since I don't figure it was my fault it got broken anyway. It wasn't exactly displayed as safely as all that, and I might've gotten hurt myself. I go along. I'm meeting up with the Current Collection staff (including Becky , who's still the manager). I have some writing to do, an article for (some publication - a newsletter or -paper or magazine) on a day in the life of President Clinton. I'm a bit behind, and I'm only just getting started, organizing my thoughts and thinking about how to open it. The Current Collection folks are going on a field trip to the Carrollton Public Library for a conference of some kind, and I decide to join them. We get into a mini-van (Becky's I think) and pull out onto a broad, tree-lined avenue. I'm thinking in quotes for my article, like "President Clinton's day started out with a drive down this broad, tree-lined avenue (insert name), and..." something about orange juice and muffins goes through my mind. I have my notebook and pen out, jotting notes. I'm wearing my black wool cape, and I'm sitting in the middle seat of the van, opposite the door so there's no seat next to me. My cape hem is dragging on the floor and I pull it up, discovering that it's heavily coated with dust, yuck. We arrive at Carrollton Public. I've been here before - it's way out in the boonies, and has daycare/preschool facilities as well as library and study areas. This one big place is crawling with rug rats and nice young teacher types in charge, kiddie-colorful playstuff all over. I have my purse and a pillow with me; thinking to put them down while I walk around, I toss them onto this "chair" thing - there's 3 or 4 together, actual chairs but on high poles. [I have no idea how you'd be meant to use them.] Then I think better of it, since they'd probably be very tempting to the kids. They'd probably try to get at them, and hurt themselves. So I grab them back (a stretch) and take them along. We go outside, and across to another building - it's a campus-y sort of place - and I run into Melanie. I'm really surprised to see her here. She says she comes down sometimes to help facilitate these conferences. I tell her I remembered us being here before, and she says yes, it's right through there where we were - pointing through an open door to another small building, whose door I can see facing us. It's a sort of mission-style place, the door sort of rustic and round (or angled?) at the top. I had been working with a man on some project, and we had used this place as a retreat; I remember the heavy wood table in the room just beyond the small foyer, and working by lamplight long hours... we go along to the room where we're going to be meeting. People are elsewhere behind the scenes, getting things ready. Melanie asks me and the 1 or 2 others with me if we want a Coke or something to drink. I ask for water. She says there isn't any, unless I want to use the garden hose. I'd forgotten this place doesn't have any running water inside, you have to bring your own drinks. Oh, well, a Coke'll have to do then. Later, I'm inside the actual library at the circ. desk. It's close to closing time, getting dark outside, and people are lining up to check out. It's a pretty small space, close, and I get an impression of the local community character of the people and staff. There's a bulletin board with community flyers and information on it. But everything seems to be going along quite businesslike.