I am in a large room that is the C department's lounge. I'm sitting on a couch. I see  coworkers Mabel and Juliet and lots of new people I don't recognize because I'd been gone so long. I watch them with interest, noticing how different it all is. A good-looking man sits next to me and smiles. We are attracted to each other. He is now a member of the C department. I talk with Mabel and Juliet who are at the other end of the couch. They are distant and busy. I lay down, curled up, watching. He lays down beside me. I say, "This used to be my corner." He smiles and says it's his now, but he'd like to share it. We talk, our interest in each other growing. He asks me out, says he'll give me a ride home. Great, we get in his car. He sees a restaurant and pulls up. We will go have dinner. It's a ritzy place. The maitre d' comes over and looks me up and down and coughs meaningfully. I say, "I suppose I don't meet your standards." He points to my shoes: plain, black and dusty flats. Well, what can I do? These are my shoes. He suggests I go into this other room where their staff will spruce me up. Jim isn't around and I go, hesitantly. The maitre d' disappears through the door and I say, "Yoo hoo" from off a balcony upstairs. Relieved, I "Yoo hoo" back. He comes downstairs and we are glad to be together. The maitre d' comes back to find me. Jim points to the pants cloth on his (Jim's) behind and says, "I'm an executive of the editors and journalists and I need these pants cleaned. The maitre de is very impressed. I'm a little surprised Jim would lie and put on this act. Now it's after dinner and we are going to get back in the car (a sports coup 1930's -'40s convertible). I put a lot of things in the back seat (including a protractor). I say, "I'd best remember I put that there in case anyone sits there. It's sharp and hidden. It could hurt someone." Then my Aunt Naomi shows up and wants to be introduced to Jim. She's looking him over and approves. He is OK. Jim says, "Hop in, we'll give you a ride." I then realize it would be best if I get in the back and think of the irony that I must be careful of the protractor. We all get in and drive. They are chattering and getting along very well and teasing me in a loving way. It feels good. He stops the car and gets out and goes into a huge office area that has rows and rows of file cabinets. It's a film processing company. I ask, "What are you doing?" as he opens drawers. He says he's getting me some film for my camera. I had wanted some. I say, "You can't do that. This is the company, you can't steal the film. No, I will not let you." I walk out and get in the car. He hands me a 8-10 frame sheet of already developed negative. I have three feelings: (1) that's not very much film; (2) I can't use it, its got picture on it already; (3) I can't accept it anyway, its not mine and not right. I sort of think I see an image of Howard on the negative and think it will be an image of high school and Howard. I look closer and it is not. He says it's OK, the film will erase those images and put the new ones on, like a tape cassette you record over. I don't approve, but my resolve is wearing down. I really do like him, so I take it and we go on. Now I'm in his apartment and we are going to be married. We are very much in love and happy. I'm getting my kind of clothes ready. He shows me a door that goes downstairs to a secret room. (There's a slight feeling there are women down there, maybe a brothel.) Then he says he has to leave for awhile and will be back. I am alone and three friends come over. One says, "Let's go down to that room and see what's there." I say, "No, we can't." He said I wasn't to do that. They cajole and I finally agree one can go and we go down the stairs, but others I don't know follow, and it's a party I can't control. And then Jim appears at the top of the stairs, absolutely furious with me for breaking my word. We all go back up. Everyone else leaves and he is yelling at me, "How could you?" I then get furious at him. "How dare you have a secret place I cannot go to?" I hold a stick/cane and sweep whisky glasses off the bar and they smash all around Jim. He is amazed at my anger. "You are really angry, " he says impressed. I continued, "How dare you not trust me? If we were honest with each other, we would have no secret places. I will not permit it. I will not accept it." He then leaves, angry. I am miserable. I wait for his return, crying and weeping, because I'm hurt and upset and still love him. Days pass. I toss and turn on the huge bed, the covers wrinkling and rippling as I toss and turn. I wake up and finish out the dream awake! I hear an insistent bell ringing from the secret room. Finally I must go see -- maybe it's him or about him. I go down the stairs. A man near death from gun shot wounds comes past way up and says, "Tell Jim the key is 2908." He dies and then Jim returns. He is exhausted and glad and amazed. I am still there. I tell him the code, which saves his life. He is a spy for CIA or something. We embrace, still loving each other.