in some kind of dormitory.  once again all wood, floors, walls, ceiling fans…  it was beautiful and spacious.  it was also a psych facility.  everyone there was a little nutty, myself included. a man came to visit me.  the same handsome devil from a previous dream.  he asked me to go for a ride with him and i did.  his driver took us in his fancy car with leather seats speeding down an expressway while the well-dressed man explained that he wanted to give me money.  i could see the bills in his hand.  at first one of them looked like it was a $25 bill which made no sense but then he spread it out to be two 10’s and a 5.  he insisted i didn’t need to do anything for the money, he was from an organization that wanted to reward me for being the person i already am.  i asked him if the money was more than $25.  he played with one dollar bills, teasing me, and said “oh yes.  it will be over 27…. thousand dollars.” i couldn’t believe it.  this would help me so much. he asked me again if i would accept it.  yes.  yes, of course.  thank you. thank you.  on the envelope of the check (and the bills he had shown me) it read that the money was for a recipient who was determined to be the “esprit socialist.” i was honored.  

back at the dorm, we are eating at the family table.  Samir says that one of his shoes was soaked in bad milk.  his father is with him (Samir is 8 like the last time I saw him, 10 years ago) and he says that it’s true. he can’t explain it.  i look under the table at his dirty shoes and though i don’t see it right away, when he turns his foot i see that the white leather of one shoe is a pale yellow. i think that with my money i can get him new shoes. after dinner we go to the control room.  it is a large square room with a few chairs and podiums.  there are about 4 of us.  the pilot is a man about my age.  we get in our places, ask if everything is stable.  there is a warning light but the man says not to worry.  it won’t affect us.  the room shakes and we blast off into space. we use capped pens on our wooden podiums to dig with a robot, looping neat handwritten encouraging messages on the faces of far away planets and moons so that anyone passing by will know they are not alone.  a mute woman who is with us goes onto a planet surface in her green and blue muumuu carrying a giant icing bag and she carefully pipes orange flowers onto the face of the dead rock.