I'm driving a friend down Centennial Loop. I'm describing the way so she'll know how to get around on her own. We pay over several bridges. They are monuments to Elvis Presley of Memphis. I see a blue and white 55 Chevy convertible in perfect shape. Then we're walking across the bridge. There are thousands of scrapbooks with interesting stories in them, stories of women who had stirring psychic events. I then stop reading them. I say, "I don't believe it. If it had happened to so many, then I would have felt it too." I then see my mother. She is flying. She does a dance on the top of a street light. I then decide to fly too. I do so. I go up to her. We're up at the height of the telephone wires. I say to her, "Let's go higher." She says, "Ha! This is hard work, just to get this high." I worry about suddenly losing the power to fly if I go higher, then it will really hurt if I fall. I see a line of people like in a carnival stage. We go closer to see. The women are mostly naked. One person is invisible. We go closer and discover that it is a man, fully dressed in a brown suit and tie. The reason no one can see him is because of a light that goes on and off behind him. He comes over to us and says, "Fix the food." We ask, "What kind of food?" He says, "You know the usual, African food." My mother and I grow pretty white wings and fly across the street. With the wings, I feel secure now and not afraid of falling. I am delighted at their beauty and how cleverly they tuck in when they're not in use, so no one sees them. I fly up to a guy and ask him where the food is so we can prepare a meal. His eyes widen as he sees my wings. I'm fluttering them effortlessly to maintain my stillness in mid-air. My mother and I start to set the table, in mid-air.