I am kneeling on the floor where there is a terrible mess of cheese pieces and slices all over and paper and stuff. The kid that made the mess refuses to clean it up so I, in exasperation, decide to do it. The door opens and Andrea comes in and says, "I've had a very bad day, but I am managing and everything will be all right." She looks down at me and sees I've had an equally bad day. I gather up the stuff and carry it into the kitchen. We and other women are talking about a trip of some kind, packing for it and suddenly it's time to go. I encourage a woman to go spontaneously without taking anything, leaving the book behind. She hesitates and then does. It is freeing, and scary. I am now walking down a flight of stairs, perhaps carpeted, and telling someone, perhaps Ellie, that my mother and Aunt Naomi were the bossy, controlling ones and Millie and Bonnie were the fun-loving, playful ones. Too bad. Ellie lays out a row of objects on the stairs to demonstrate this concept. Now I have no place to step, I am blocked, so she has to move some of them so I have a place to step.