I return to an apartment where I have lived and find that I left our dog Roxie behind when I left about two weeks before.  I am appalled that I could have done that and am relieved to find that she is still alive and seems to be none the worse for wear.  I wonder how she survived.  At some point I am on the phone talking to Bob Fox, and I tell him about it.  Then, I am returning from somewhere to a hotel where an academic conference is taking place.  I have found another dog, named Chelsea, a little shaggy dog like my sister Nancy's, and I either have been asked to bring it or take it upon myself to do so because it has been lost or left behind.  Sometimes it walks, sometimes I carry it.  Sometimes I walk, and sometimes I fly.  We go over fields, and I have to fly because there are fences.  There are livestock in the fields-live at first, and then, increasingly, partially decayed carcasses.  Most are horses; one is possibly a moose.  Eventually I reach the intersection where the hotel is located, and it is a colt I am bringing with me, not a dog.    I have to cross a big intersection near my home.  I start once and get across a couple of lanes and then am afraid I won't make it safely and retreat.  The second time, I get a break and make it across.  I am wearing a coat and tie and dress shoes, so I can't run very well.  When I get to the hotel, I realize that I have left the horse back across the road.  My plan is to go to my room and change and go back and get it.  But I stop at the mailboxes to check my mail and Bill Wallace and Norma King are there too.  The mailboxes are partially transparent, I can see there is something in there, though it is kind of hard to reach.  When I get it out, I see that there is a postcard from someone whom I don't remember, and there is a two page handwritten note written by Bill Wallace on behalf of him and his son.  It has been photocopied and distributed to people who attended a kind of sing along that we had held sometime previously.  I had been one of the singers, and the note mentioned me, but wasn't signed by me.  I remember the sing along, and remember that there had been only five or six people there, and wonder why he went to the trouble of writing a note.  I end up going back out of the hotel the back way, without having changed my clothes, to go back and get the horse.  I reach the sidewalk, and it goes uphill.  I am having difficulty walking, and want to go by the shortest route, but I am disoriented and am not sure how to get back to the front of the hotel.  I run into Betty Nettles, who is walking along the same sidewalk, and I ask her for directions.  She isn't sure either, and what she tells me, I don't believe.  I consider going back to the hotel and through it to the front, but calculate that that should be a longer distance, and I am really having trouble walking.