Susan S. and Tom are around. The phone rings and I answer it. It is the media interested in Mobility International, and I'm a little disappointed because I hoped they were interested in my stuff. I hand the phone over to Susie. It turns out they ask me to go somewhere and talk, and she refuses for me because she thinks I've done too much and will get tired and ill. I give her a lecture, surprised that she of all people didn't know better. "I make that decision. Not you. Probably I'll come to the same decision but I have the right to decide. Don't decide for me." She is embarrassed and agrees. And now I'm flying. The vehicle I'm on is sort of a flattened wheelchair. It runs on air and is slowly running out, like a balloon. I hope I have enough. I fly through a boy's dorm and down the side of a tall building. I finally run out and am concerned how I'll manage because I can't walk well or far. An "India" man comes up and makes me a special tortilla, white and round with # cross hatch embossed marks on it. I fold it up and eat it. It's like peyote only it makes me feel peaceful and I can now move effortlessly.