There is a big windstorm coming, and Rich C. has come over to my house to help me prepare. For some reason I'm rather incompetent at it. Mostly we don't do very much, just move things in the basement closer to the floor if they might fall and break. There are items littered all over.

Rich is outside picking up a few things and the wind is gathering. Suddenly the trunk of a tree breaks off and a large chunk crashes down on the porch. "You better come inside," I yell, "it's getting too dangerous," but he's already running for cover as another large piece breaks off and falls behind him. I notice that both pieces have crushed his car.

Then I go to church with somebody, I think Heather. We try to be nonchalant and just hang out in the back, but they pull everybody into a tight circle to sing. My companion seems to find it awkward, but I just sing with them, and she sits on my lap. The secret flirting seems to make the situation more tolerable.

We end up back at my house, and as she lies on her back on my bed, she notices a constellation on my ceiling. It was her favorite as a child, she tells me, she heard a legend about a certain celestial character who would use a ladder and climb into the constellation to sleep.