I dream that Peter and I are in our kitchen, getting ready to go to work. He's wearing a burgundy colored sweatshirt and black jeans. Everything is like it is every morning, the rustle of breakfast and coffee. I notice that someone else walks into the room. It's an exact copy of Peter, except he's wearing a bright blue shirt. I barely notice for a while. And then I can't figure it out. We're always two, but now we're two plus a photocopy. As I try to uncomfortably wrap my mind around the fact that I've now got two husbands, I also try to keep straight which one is the "real" one - probably the first one? I realize that if I can just find my copy of Kathleen Fraser's When New Time Folds Up, that I'll be able to figure this out. Then I wake up.