Nancy and I are stopped at the top of a large mountain beside a highway that plummets alongside a gigantic cliff that is part of this mountain. I am amazed at what we can see from this vantage point and how much better it is than one we have just had, a vantage point already mostly forgotten. We can see most of New York State from this point on the mountain, a point either on the northern edge of the state or just beyond it. The highway descends towards Buffalo where it turns left and east, and I can see the highway, which must be the New York State Thruway, continuing until it meets an accumulation of buildings in the middle of the state, which must be Syracuse.
We descend the mountain and stop in Buffalo, where we attend a party of our friends Jim and Patti. It is the summertime, and their party is on Lake Erie, primarily on a large boat.
Nancy and I are now naked in a four-poster bed in a large white house by Lake Erie and she is telling me what kind of sex she prefers. My copy of the magazine P-Queue is sitting on a dresser atop my small brown stationery box beside a jar of Vaseline. I tell Nancy that I am worried about the Vaseline getting on the book.
We are outside on the deck of the boat talking to Jim, and Patti is coming over to talk to us. We discuss why their daughter Katie is not present.
Nancy and I are back in the white house. We are on the wide landing on the second floor, which is decorated with furniture including a chest of drawers upon which sits my copy of Queue. The area is filled with a number of older women who seem to be in charge of both the party and the house. Someone has moved our stuff, so that there is Vaseline globbed on my stationery box and my book. I'm upset and try to wipe it off of the book. There is not much Vaseline on the book, so I am not that worried (and I then realize this is a dream and that my book is probably untouched).
Nancy and I head out east across the state back home, but we are walking, not driving. When we get to Syracuse, which is only one hundred yards or so from the boat, we have to go straight through the city. And the city is now just a single small house. We enter the house through the wide front door, and we arrive just as the fireplace is being set in place so that we cannot go through the rest of the house. This happens, we learn, every day at noon. Once the wall in front of us closes and the fireplace appears, a group of state workers, including our quiet friend Robert, put together a small teatime and dance simple monochromatic dances to chamber music. We try to find another way through the house so that we can continue across the state, but there is no way through the house and no way around the house. We return to the room and talk to Robert as the dancing continues—until the fireplace opens and we can continue on our trip.
We finally arrive at home, back at our end of the state, where we are with a group of people all of whom have special handheld electronic devices. It is unclear what these devices do, but some nefarious people know how these will work against them so they attack us and steal the devices from us.
Many of us are captured during this attack, but I am one of those left behind. I am now second in charge at the FBI, and I am trying to figure out how to make the devices to work again. Somehow, this will foil the plans of those who stole the devices. I am working on this project beside a severe blonde woman who occasionally provides some help.
I go to speak to the first in charge, but everyone around him is speaking in Spanish, and my Spanish isn't good enough to allow me to join the conversation. I hold one of the devices beside the head of the first in charge to arouse his attention and to tell him something I have discovered. But I pull my hand away, because I have just realized that I don't recognize which one he is anymore.