I am packing my things, little pretty glass things and figurines and trying not to take too many with me to the new place. I have a hard time resisting them and pack them up. A woman client of mine comes and starts telling me her current crisis and I half listen and then say, "Excuse me, but I'm busy right now, could you wait a few moments?" She sits on a couch and I go into another room looking on the top of the refridge for more of my things. I am annoyed that she is bothering me and annoyed I didn't just tell her to go away. I see what looks like a tiny figurine of a blue heron and pick it up (on top of refridge) and it turns out to be a fat dragon plastic figurine with a silly face. Oh, it's my mothers. I go to another refridge, where the door is part way open because the shelves in the door are part way out. I think someone is cleaning it. My father says, "No, it's OK," and shoves them back in place. I step up on a step chair too far up on the rungs and my balance is precarious. I back down a few rungs and feel better. Then I see a man, and my client goes to him and I realize I'd told her he's a good man and will help her, so she's get off my back. The first thing the man (like Pete Allgiere) does is kiss her and I feel bad. I start to go over to stop this and the woman comes to me. I signal her to come closer and she does, holding open a book and she says, "Look, your book." I see she or the man has made an illustration out of part of my book (a thing about different kinds of plants). I feel pleased and unsure whether to pursue warning her the man is not as I thought he was. She seems content to return to him and I let go and don't do anything more.