I am a queen or princess. I can have anything I want. I feel sexually excited and grab a man and slide him under me and make love to him. I don't care who he is. He's like Dr. Fleischman of Northern Exposure. I have orgasm. Now I get up. I have a group of male guards around me all the time. I am walking through a field. I have a path worn around the edges of the field because I don't want to be wasteful and trample the beautiful flowers, and they are very pretty and colorful. Now the guard on my left will die for me, he loves me and is devoted so much to me. We approach the double doors of an auditorium of another country. A bishop or monk comes out in a hurry, sees me and bows, surprised. His hankie falls to the ground. He picks it up. We sweep past him and on to the crowd. My guard warns me to be careful, the crowd isn't on my side. As I prepare to walk to my center seat by the king of the country I am visiting, all the religious types file out, so they won't offend me with their presence. I go and sit by the king, but not in the chair provided. I sit up on a table, on top of income tax forms. The crowd is luke warm in their reception with the exception of one woman who is standing and facing back toward me applauding. She sees she's the only one and stops, confused. Now the star, a woman in a manual wheelchair, comes out on stage and makes a sarcastic remark at me, something like, "We'll wait until you are ready." I zing back a sarcastic remark like, "Oh, you sing? When did you start?" The crowd gasps at the sharp barbs. I sit haughtily.