Barefoot husband on the prowl
I was in a mall, going through sets of doors. There was an awful, terribly loud sound of starlings. I saw stupid gopher figurines and heard my mom say, “I could sell that.” There was also a golf towel that had horrible clip art of a foot that said “Barefoot Husband on the Prowl.”
I was sleeping in a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco.
The Center was hassling me about some preschool thing in an odd-shaped room. Julie was there, and she had a doppelganger who made her cry: I don’t know if the one in blue or the one in red was the “real” one.