While my father was driving a car in which several other people and I were riding, he asked me if I had received the Christmas card which he had sent me last Christmas. I told him that I had received the card, but that only my step-mother, Lucille had signed it. When I asked him if he had received the book on tape which I had sent him, he didn't answer.

As we rode along, we approached a church which I at first thought was the church in the village of Patriot, in Gallia County, Ohio, but then realized was Nebo Church which is close to the Gallia County Farm. When I saw all the people walking into the church for Sunday services, I suggested to my father that we stop and enter, but he wasn't interested. We were forced to stop anyway, because just as we were passing the church, my father realized the car had a flat tire.

He stopped the car and everyone in the car out. While the others worked on the flat tire, I walked over to the church and stepped inside. I felt disoriented at first because the pews seemed to be facing the wrong direction from the way I remembered, but finally I realized the pews were situated the way they should be.

I knew I looked young (about 20 years old). I felt appropriately dressed since I was wearing a light-colored suit. I looked around the room where perhaps 20-30 people were sitting in pews. I didn't know many people in this community, but I would like to become acquainted with some of them. Thinking that I would just stay a few minutes while the tire was being changed outside, I took a seat.

As I sat down, I noticed an attractive blonde woman (probably in her mid 20s) sitting behind me to my left. As I glanced at her, she glanced back at me. Who was she? I thought to myself that I would make a good catch for someone in this community since I was a lawyer, something rare in this rural area.

As I remained sitting, I thought that often in a church like this, at the beginning of the service, the preacher would ask if anyone were new, and would ask the person to stand and introduce himself. I didn't want to have to do that. Besides, I wasn't exactly new because I had been in this church many times, when my father used to preach there. The funeral of one of my brothers had even been held there. I remembered my brother Adolph's funeral had been there, but I couldn't recall whether my brother Chris's funeral had been held in this church or somewhere else. I also thought for a moment that my great-aunt Dorothy's funeral had taken place there, but then I remembered that Dorothy hadn't even died yet.

As my thoughts meandered, someone passed the offering plate. Since everyone else seemed to be putting coins into the plate, I pulled out some change. I had two quarters and a dime. At first I was just going to give the two quarters, but since the dime was mixed in with the quarters, I put all three coins in the plate.

After the plate had been passed, I stood and walked to the door to look outside. I knew my father wouldn't want to wait for me. I was disappointed to discover that the car was gone, that I had been left behind. I walked back to my pew and sat down. What would I do now? Maybe I would hitchhike to the Gallia County Farm. Or maybe I would walk. I would feel funny walking in the country with a suit on, but I might have to. Of course maybe my father would return. I didn't know.

I looked again at the woman. She still looked enticing.

The plate was passed again. This time I pulled out my billfold and looked into it. I had about ten one hundred dollar bills. Finally I found some one dollar bills folded up together. I pulled out three and put them in the plate. The woman holding the plate (probably in her mid 50s) noticed that I had had a five dollar bill mixed in with the ones, but that I hadn't put the five in the plate. She said, "What about that five?" I stuck the five back in my billfold. The woman seemed friendly but a bit too pushy. I wondered if she had also noticed the hundreds in my billfold.

When I sat back down, three or four young farm boys (probably in their early 20s) sitting behind me began singing a beautiful song about "the philosophy of love" and then sang out, "Don't seek out new sorrow."

This line reverberated in my mind and seemed so appropriate to me. Here I was, eyeing this blonde-haired woman, while I was still married to Carolina. The last thing I needed was to strike up some new relationship, and cause myself new sorrow.

Just as some people attend church to relieve their sorrow, so - for the same reason - do some dream-journalists publish their dreams on the Dream Journal.

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