I awoke to find my friend Matthew Julsonnett at my door. He had come to stay at my house. Entering, he appreciated the surroundings and went on to describe his own house. It was a large mansion, down at Colorado Springs; he related that beside the way leading to his house were two stone pillars, holding a sign on top signifying that it was his home. I placed his bags in my room, and directed him to the game room where I found him engrossed in a Nintendo game. I found this odd, chiefly because he no doubt had played better games than this. I left him, after conversing for a good while. I found that he had grown much since out last meeting, and his mannerisms were quite different.

I strode down a long, rocky hill, toward a building whose purpose was unknown to me. Inside, it seemed to be a sort of museum, of animals, I gathered. Along the walls of one hall were many aquariums. On the far end, sharks and predatory beasts swam in a smallish tank. One worker unfortunately had opened a door at that moment, expelling large volumes of water to wash into the hallway. I fled quickly to the bathroom, where I found that the water did not enter, but instead subsided. I used the restroom presently. Unfortunately, during the flush, an absentminded flick of the finger sent my ring into the toilet, settling to the bottom and not being drained.

I grasped for it, but it went down the pipes out of sight; and while i searched for it in vain, a worker saw me fishing. I motioned to my ring finger, and signaled that I had lost my ring. He gladly assisteed my search with a smile, and I stood back and fretted that the ring was important to me... while I did this, I found the ring on my finger, as if it had been there all along. I apologized, and showed the man the ring, and he said no problem, happy to help.

Presently I came to an insect collector, who was busily studying some small, two-inch dinosaurs. I asked him why he would be interested in such small dinosaurs, but he replied that they were insects, he was quite sure of it. The funny thing was, you know, that they stretched, if you tried to pull them from where they were. I tried to take a brontosaurus into the next room, but only its neck would stretch several yards while its feet stayed planted on the ceiling from which I had plucked it. It snapped back upon my giving up and letting go.

I dont' remember how, but I got all dreamy then, and details became indistinct, and I heard music playing, to which I promptly fell asleep.