Peter M, who is not in his chair, Maggie and I are meeting to work out something about my book. He seems distant and to the point. Like, "Let's get this business taken care of. I need to get going." I talk about the things I want to do with the book. Peter M seems on edge. I try to hurry so he can leave. Maggie leaves. I'm sitting on the floor leaning on big pillows. Peter M is nervously pacing. He walks up close to me, squats down to be on eye level to talk, and then bounces up again. I wanted him to stay. It begins to seem that he's drawn to me, but something is making him want to leave. As I'm talking, I look up. He's near me. I look into his eyes. They are beautiful. I look at his lips and wish he'd kiss me. We almost do. I then remember that once long ago, we were lovers for awhile. I feel very warm and want to hug him. He bounces up, saying something about his wife. I hear it but ignore it. I figure he's too good for me and he'll never like me anyway. Peter M leaves. A cleaning woman is in the room. Peter M then bounces back in. I see he has a horn case with him. I exclaim, "Oh! Is that a French horn?" He says, "Yes." He's embarrassed. "Oh, I'd love to hear it," I say. He pulls it out. I think, "I'd like to try to play it." Paulina has a trumpet and I liked playing it. The sound from the horn is very pretty. I put my good ear right up to the instrument. Even then the sound is soft. I hear two notes at once and exclaim, "How did you do that?" He hands me the horn. I look at it. It has an ornate set of "buttons" like petals carved in wood or ivory. He says, "It's old and ancient and eastern." His basset hound crawls on my lap and wants his tummy scratched or petted. I do it and hug him and call him a sickly hound dog. I see the word hound dog written on a paper. Then Peter M says, "I have a gift for you." He hands me a jar with lots of little compartments. I see papers and things. I open the first part of the jar. I'm feeling very surprised and pleased. He watches me. It's a paper. I read it. It's a series of notes. It starts out as a note from a registrar to him about his needing to add or drop a class. There are then a series of notes by him answered by someone else. I see the name Barb and think, "That's probably his wife." I don't understand the significance of this paper but I want to because it's a gift to me. I open the next gift. I see a series of potholders. I say, "Oh how nice. I can use these." I then exclaim, "Oh, it's miniature. I can put it in the miniature house we've been building." I then see there are lots of miniature things like a stove, and a laundry hamper with clothes in it. I peek under the clothes and see peanuts. My brother Dwight is hovering near by. I want him to go away because this is a special moment with Peter M. I say, "Oh, they are a lot of miniatures and things for the house! How silly of me not to connect that when I first saw them." Then Peter M, whose eyes tell me he cares for me but is slightly turned away from me, says in an anguished voice, "You have about 19 things you need to do in Dover. How are you going to manage it?" He meant I have many creative things to do and how can I support myself and do them too? I feel warmth because he cares. I say, "I don't know. I'll just do it somehow. I've got some ideas. I'm working on it." He looks at me. I think, "How sweet." He wants to offer to take care of me, financially, and be with me so he and I can do these creative things. Then I say, "This summer, Maggie and I are going to do a book. She's a photographer (he grimaces because he is too), and we'll do a picture/story book." I sense he'd like to do that with me. Dwight is still hanging around and I really want him to leave! Then, I look at his next gift. It's a beautiful paint set, brushes, luxurious, colored bristles. I thank him. He's standing again, getting ready to leave. I say, "I'll bet you're getting bored because I'm taking so long to look at your gifts." He doesn't really answer. He's about ready to leave. I want him to stay and he wants to stay.