Andy sent me some email at some point in the past, and we're standing before a blackboard, discussing the topic: improving social skills. Andy makes a very amusing algebraic equation about the dynamics of meeting new people: "Okay. You're variable a. Right now you're talking to b. a plus b is equal to i, which is a conversation. Meanwhile there's this other person, whose existence you are not even aware of. He's constant L, for Life, because he's a part of existence you don't know about, but who's always there. Now L would like to interpolate himself on the sum-side of this equation..." And he goes on and on in a very erudite manner, graphing it and everything. Now I meet his grandparents and talk to him for a little while about this and that. He tells me something astonishing and I joke: "Well, Bob's your Uncle!" "Grandpa," Andy corrects. "Yours too." And he's right: both of us have grandparents named Bob. Now I'm in S City with Andy, Laura, two guys from Junior High who I haven't thought about since, and the main character of my book, Richard Sampson. We're just walking along, talking; Laura, as usual, is about a mile ahead, trying to avoid conversation. The two guys from junior high are talking about pizza behind us. I'm still talking to Andy about his email message. We begin to climb the scaffolding of the new parking garage downtown, and I'm telling Andy how amusing I thought his email message was, and I sort of respond to it, when Andy intervenes: "Say, shouldn't we really save this for email, to give us something to do when we log on?" I agree and we begin to climb down the scaffolding, having had enough of the view. The two pizza guys behind us suggest going to a pizzeria: apparently they know of a good one. Only, Laura is now two miles ahead and I *know* she doesn't know where the pizzeria is. I wake up before we can all regroup.