Night of April 10, 1989. Monday.

I am at my sister Marilyn’s house in La Crosse (on Loomis Street). It is fairly late at night. My brother-in-law Bob is watching television (and “not socially present”) as usual and I think my sister is working on a latch-hook rug. Brother Dennis and sister’s friend CS are also there.

Over time, bees get in the house through the front porch. I am very annoyed at the thought, as they pose a threat (though I am not allergic) in my dream (but I have nothing against them in real life). Eventually, I go outside onto the street (not in the middle, but to one side - the west, closet to my sister’s house, where cars usually park). I start dancing and singing in what is somewhat like a slow version of the Shawnee Stomp Dance.

Curiously, some clouds gather over the full moon and it starts to rain. The bees start to land on me, but the rain washes them away and I start to feel more and more ecstatic, moving my head about and surrendering to the amazing sensations of rain on my body.

I am watched from the doorway as if people are concerned about me. Apparently, they seem to think it is better to sit inside the house and get stung by bees than to be out dancing in the rain and getting wet. For some reason, this (their amazing ignorance) only inspires me to dance with more enthusiasm and sing louder and louder, feeling more and more blissful while giving thanks to the dark night sky above me that delivers the purity (in my dream) of the rain.

I am aware of their shadows in the doorway as if from a “lower” world or plane or beyond/below infrared. They stay inside as a feeling of beauty overwhelms me, almost like ecstasy, which leaves me breathless and feeling as if I am suddenly flying, seemingly formless, at an incredible speed into green fields. (Does this imply that I have transformed into a bee in a different scene? Perhaps!)