I am in a room with Eric and some others, one of them a man in a wheelchair (not Derek, but I like him sort of like Derek). I want to tell them of this amazing coincidence of me having a dream about Nate writing this story about me and then here we are together to talk stories. We are walking down some flights of stairs to find a quiet place to talk. I open a door and see a Hult Center type auditorium with some show going on, on the stage. I close the door. We go down another flight of stairs to find a dingy metal green basement and we go back up that one flight of stairs. We go through the Hult Center door and walk quietly through the hall at the back of the audience to a cafe. We sit. The tables are small, square ones, room for two at each table. Now some other people are with us and I want there to be room for the man with the wheelchair to sit at my table across from me so he can enjoy the dream I'm going to tell. Now my father is seated at the end on the left and my mother at my left. A young couple in love is between my parents. My Aunt Rosalie is on my right. My father comes in smiling with a tray of special desserts he bought for the young couple to honor this moment (of wedding or being in love). It interrupts my starting to tell the dream. We admire and look at what's on the tray -- red and white striped ice cream swirled in a dish, a bottle of what looks like champagne, but my mother looks at the label and we agree it's almost champagne, the cheaper version. My father is smiling, very pleased with himself. I am a bit annoyed, but still trying to get the attention so I can tell this interesting dream coincidence thing. Now I see my father has on some kind of mask which hides his gentle, kind face. I try to speak and he sounds like he wants to hear, but then he interrupts with a story of his own or something and I go quiet. Now Aunt Rosalie is having an argument with Sparky off in another room and I feel angry and put upon. My day is getting spoiled. I feel guilty because my relatives have somehow taken over this day and Sparky is going to be mad at me because we've moved in and not paid our share for the rooms. I didn't mean for this to happen. It's beginning to look hopeless that I'll be able to impress this man in the wheelchair like I'd like to with my fine story. I am frustrated and sad.