Just before waking, 6:00 AM:
Chris and I are together in our house, but it’s a different house than this one. It reminds me of Grandma’s house, but much more full of stuff – I think this may be another patterning from the Studio. There is a cast-iron sewing machine, like the one I have out there. Chris has decided to go sleep in the other room; I don’t know why, but I think we’ve had some kind of disagreement. He is picking up pillows from a pile, to take them into the other room. I am upset that he is doing this; I’m standing in the doorway trying to get him to come back.
Then I see through the window that Dana is coming up the driveway. I point this out to Chris; he gives a long-suffering sigh. I go outside to take care of Dana so that she won’t come in. She has come to pick up some stuff; I go out into the back yard (which is now the Kingwood house’s yard) and there is a book here, just tucked against a tree – but it looks like it’s in OK shape, not wet or mildewed. I pick it up, then notice that there is a whole box of other books nearby, including a copy of the same book, which is a large but slim green hardback. I’m trying to figure out which things go with Dana, and which are mine.