A beautiful woman with long curly, wavy red hair is taking care
of me. She tells me I am O.K., that I am beautiful now, that I
can believe it and go on my way.
I am driving in weird country. It is very rugged terrain.
Suddenly, I come upon a huge pothole, the size of a cave. Great
numbers of people have stopped here iether because thier vehicle
has gone over the edge or, they won't for some reason or another,
turn back.
People are camping all over the area. The landscape resembles
that of the Canadian Shield. A guy is putting up a tent. There
are sheets of plastic sort of like a great pad of paper. You
tear a sheet off, one at a time. The "pad" is finished and I
tell him he can use the last sheet to shield himself from the
humidity but he refuses. He says it could rip and tear. I look
at him strangely. The last sheet is thicker than all the
preceding ones and I just don't understand his reasoning. It's
his funeral. I can't twist his arm I think.
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