Sleep Dream.  I’m at 722 E. 7th Ave. It’s not Mavis Lee S’s house at this point. Ernestine lives in some sort of apartment there. I am meeting her for some sort of project, having to do with writing, I believe. It is early of a morning. The sky is blue, the shadows are velvety black. The air is crystalline, redolent of freshness and optimism. I see Ernestine go into the coffee shop across the street. (The News Stand moved one block south, as it were.) I decide to go across and meet her there. There is a line of customers.

Ernestine is her diffident, distanced self. I detect a spark of fear in her eyes upon seeing me, but she would never articulate it, if even aware of it.

(As I write, Ernestine’s face conjures before my mind’s eye other female faces: Tori, Josh and Brad’s neighbor, Barb, and a face from the distant past – Rona Z.)

We go back across the street to Ernestine’s building. To get to her small apartment involves negotiating somewhat of a maze of small rooms and hallways. At one point there is some sort of opening or passageway that is particularly small. I think to myself: „Oh no, not this again! I’m tired to death of having to squeeze into this space! It really does feel like I’ll get stuck in there!“

I’m silent. As is Ernestine. I know she has no interest whatsoever in my thoughts and feelings, my discomfort. The unspoken agreement is that she is fragile, I’m strong. I’m to silently enter her world and support her.