Last night was the night of dances and balls. At first, I was in my old high school, and I could not tell whether I was a teacher or a student. Mr. V-- W---- was there and one of the chaperones. Everything was being put in order in the old gym. During the dance something went awry and some massive light fixture caught fire--ending the dance. The problems continued as I attempted to drive home. I'm not sure if I was slightly inebriated or what, but that old drive down E15 was a struggle.
Before I knew it I was in another car, struggling again. This time I was with someone--maybe my sister Hope--driving to a ball. We had been searching for lakes, and found one that was seemingly endless. We wound around the lake, searching for parking, and an angry/eager driver behind us found ways to swivel around us on the curve. The lake had many ins and outs, shaped more like a puzzle piece than some kind of circle. We had initially seen one parking lot but dismissed it, only to find the rest of the lake without parking, and often with trees blocking our view. Somehow we stopped and we found ourselves inside a building. Suddenly it was the 18th century or so and we were discussing which dances could be done in which spaces. Prior to waking up, we were clearing out two adjacent dining rooms of their dark wood furniture in order to accommodate the dance.
(I was reading Mansfield Park before I went to sleep last night.)
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