I am a shy person and gifted musically. A female teacher lives with us. She teaches piano and composition. We are together a lot and she hugs me and sits close. This is OK until she becomes sexual, kissing me and trying to seduce me. I feel repulsed and try to pull away. She says, "Either you go out and get involved with men or you stay here and be involved with me." I'm afraid of both situations, but choose to leave and find a man rather than stay with her. I get in a small car and drive. I find myself on a road inside a building that goes to a distant cousin's house. Maybe she can help me get over my shyness so I can find a man. I knock on her door and go in. She's busy and isn't sure who I am. She offers me basic hospitality by pointing to a bottle of pink wine and saying I could have a drink if I want. I admire the glass jug and politely comment on the pink color, how pretty it is. She's busy with her children. I leave and decide I must go home to visit my mother. I'm on a motorcycle-like thing. I have to drive through a window, on the 2nd or 3rd story of a building and trust that I would land safely! I don't feel much trust, but I smash through the window. The cycle and I are in thin air and I can see the streets and plaza below me. I just know I'm going to crash and die. But somehow I drift down and land safely. Then as I drive down a street, I see some savings stamps (like S and H green stamps, only they are red) fall off my cycle. I don't want to take the time to stop, but I do because the stamps are important. I get them and also get an envelope full of photo negatives. I'm glad I stopped. Now I return to my home. My mother greets me. I see the music teacher is still there. She's suggestively embracing my mother. I glare at her. She is hurt. I tell my mother, "I'll stay here until I can find a place of my own, where I can live alone." The teacher hears this and realizes I mean I haven't given up and returned to her. She leaves the room angrily. I go to my mother and whisper, "You have to tell her about the beds." My mother says, "This is a very delicate situation, but I'll try." As I walk with difficulty up steep stairs, I hear my mother saying to the music teacher, "We have to take the double bed out now and replace it with two single beds," one for her and one for B. I am at the top of the stairs and am crawling, hanging on so I don't slip and fall. I ask (I'm B now) how I'm supposed to get to the bedroom (see drawing). As I can only see a rail to hang on by my hands and swing hand over hand, she says, "Go through that door." I see a small door and I pry it off its brass nails/screws and enter a hall. It is being remodeled into a nice room. I see beautiful dark green carpet and comment on how pretty. I see a small black piano. "Is this going to be a living room or a dining room?" "No," she says, "A music room for my mother." We pass through it to the bedroom.