I am in and out of a hotel room. It feels like New York or Chicago (both?). I have lost my key and take the elevator to the front desk, where an elaborately industrial procedure is used (involving machinery like a die press with a heavy solenoid interface) to make a new key by placing my voiceprint code on a card.

Then I am in a public commons much like Bethesda Plaza in Central Park (or it is actually there?). At first no one else is on the scene. I have sculpture that I am working on in plein air–ecstatic feeling. I am dressed in a hooded robe, sort of an artist’s smock.

Gradually others begin to appear. Eventually I am fully surrounded by others. I am glad as some take interest in what I am doing. I concentrate on one small component that I notice has come loose. I ponder putting it back, but then I think the work is bettered by not replacing the piece.

Among the gathered people is a woman who is also dressed with a hooded garment. It is stylish, not ascetic, outfit, yet she is very powerful, serene, engaging. She makes a comment–something about being drawn into the work. I tell her, “I would love to show you more,” and then I say, “I have drawings too.” The people begin to disperse, and the woman is going also, but I have a feeling we have established a valuable connection.

The atmosphere is softly effulgent and highly-charged. There is a feeling of quipoise.