It is raining, and when I look down, I see that I am soaked through. I have no umbrella, I have no hat, I have no raincoat. I am dressed in a drab shirt and pants, and I am wearing leather-soled wingtip shoes that make me slip as I walk, and seem to be full of water. My socks are clammy on my feet.

Inside a warm building lobby, I shiver as I take shelter, and I look out and see that the storm is so fierce that water runs in torrents in the gutter, almost as tall as the curb.

Now I'm inside someone's apartment in the building. A woman is wearing a flannel robe that looks very warm. She has clothing draped over her arm, and a cup of hot cocoa in her hand. She gives it to me, and I drink it all down in a few gulps.

She hands me the clothing.

"How did you know?" I ask her in surprise.

Her eyes shift down, a little smile plays at her lips, and she doesn't answer. She keeps this droll secret to herself. She just knew.

The clothes that she has for me are all women's clothes. There is nothing that could be more comforting! At the mirror, I see that the velvet dress she has for me fits perfectly. It feels very warm and it is a very becoming shade of deep violet. There are touches of white lace along the bodice. I raise my skirt to see if I am wearing a pretty slip. But it's all that deep, warm velvet material.

I am sitting in a chair, and the woman is drying my hair for me. She is using several towels. She puts one over my head, and rubs gently. She takes the towel away and kisses me lightly on the cheek.

"You are a pretty girl," she tells me. And she asks, "Why were you out in the rain?"

I say, "There is no floor in my apartment."

I don't know what happened to it. It isn't scary to me, to not have a floor. Or that all my positions would be gone. Dream logic; it doesn't disturb me at all. I don't seem to be too upset or concerned.

"It'll come back," the woman says. I believe her.

Her floor is covered in a lovely carpet. She tells me it's a shag carpet, and made from dog hair. It's all a tawny shade, and very curly and soft. I want to lie down on it, but I don't want to ruin the beautiful velvet dress.

She is doing my hair, combing it, styling it. She tells me that because I have red hair, it retains warmth and it dries faster. My hair is, in fact, nice and dry now.

I am walking down the street, and it is sunny out, and even though I am in my bare feet, the pavement feels soft. I am wearing the velvet dress, and it seems to have a deep iridescent glow in the sunlight. It feels so wonderful on me, so warm. It swirls gently as I walk. I wish there were people out to admire me, but I guess they don't realize it has stopped raining.