I took a nap in the afternoon and while I was asleep, I had a dream. It was sort of interesting. My mother was here and we had gone to the store with my daughter. It was in the daytime and she had bought all sorts of sweets, cinnamon buns and cakes and stuff, things I don't ordinarily buy from the grocery. And I guess I thought to myself she probably bought them because we didn't ordinarily have them or something for some sort of a treat for us while she was here. But now that I think about it, none of the things she bought appealed to me very much or that I liked very much, and I believe we were with my sister, who's 18, and we were going to a movie. We were taking my daughter and we were all going to a movie. And we were out in the lobby of this movie. Maybe it wasn't going to start for a little while or something and there were a lot of little children out there my daughter's age, and some were older than she was. They were all running around playing and she was playing with them. And we kept losing sight of her and once we lost sight of her and I couldn't find her. Finally I opened this door and she was going down this long flight of dark stairs as fast as she could. At the bottom of this flight of stairs it was a narrow corridor. There were walls up to the ceiling on both sides of these narrow stairs that went down. There were whole stacks of magazines, like somebody had been storing them there. And it looked as though the stairs took another turn and probably kept on going down. I told her no that I had to spank her pretty hard because I didn't want her to ever do anything like that again, and my mother was sort of upset with the fact that I had spanked her for this, and she couldn't seem to understand why it was necessary. Then my husband came into the dream somehow and the movie bit was forgotten and I had to teach him to read. Something had happened to him or he had never, never known how and apparently he couldn't even read, he couldn't even say simple sentences, he couldn't repeat them. He could say them by himself, but he couldn't repeat them after somebody and that's one reason he couldn't read because he couldn't repeat what he saw before him, and so I took him out and sat down with him on this little couch and had an apple and I was making up these nonsensical sentences like, "Now my husband takes a bite of the apple" and I'd given him a bit of it and he would try to say it and he just had the most difficult time with it. He couldn't, and it was a very agonizing experience because I tried teaching this and he couldn't do this very simple thing," and I don't know what had happened to him in the dream, but what was supposed to have happened to him, but it wasn't his mind, his intellect, there was something some psychological block of some sort, some traumatic experience that he had had or something and now he couldn't read and I tried. I fed him some apple and these little nonsense sentences and tried to get him to repeat them and didn't have too much success with it.