I'm in a hospital bed, sleeping. I'd had seizures or something and they had me under observation. I really was OK and this was an expensive way to make sure. A man who really did have seizures comes over to me and takes a bottle of wine from my bedside table. I tell him to put it back. The doctors are talking about me. I get up to examine lots of my old belongings I'd packed up long ago and sent to England. They are out on a counter top and taking up lots of room. I go through the stuff and see magazines and amber beads I'd like to take back with me. I realize I'd taken up too much room with my junk and wonder if other people need this area and think about packing it back up and taking it back to America.