Eight or nine people and I were gathered together to vote on a project on which we were all working. The purpose of the vote was to elect one of our members to perform some manual clean-up work in an area where the project was being completed. I had arrived at this meeting late, and in haste, I had written my own name on a small slip of paper, "Steve," and had placed the slip in the ballot box.

As the votes were counted and each ballot was removed from the box, each name was written in white chalk on a black board. Soon the names of almost everyone in the group had been scrawled on the board, each name showing one vote, as if everyone had done as I, and voted for themselves. My ballot was the last one to be pulled out of the box. I now wished I hadn't voted for myself, but for someone else. But there was nothing I could do now.

When my name was finally announced from my ballot, another member of our group started talking to me. I immediately recognized her as Wendy (with whom I first came in contact in 1967 when we were in the tenth grade together). I was surprised when Wendy (probably in her mid 20s) she began speaking to me as if she knew me quite well. I reflected that when we had attended high school together, we had hardly, if ever, spoken, but now she was talking to me in the most familiar manner, as if she knew all about me.

Suddenly, I realized what might have happened. I recalled that I had dreamed about Wendy before, and that after writing the dream, I had posted it on my web site. Someone who knew Wendy must have read the dream and then must have told Wendy about it. Wendy had then uncovered my web site and not only read the dream about her, but also probably had read many of my other dreams. My life was probably an open book to her; who knew what she knew about me.

I wasn't bothered in the least by this realization. More than anything, I was intrigued about who else might have read my dreams and my mind jumped to Peggy (with whom I first came in contact in 1964 when we were in the seventh grade together). So many times over the years I had dreamed about Peggy, and so many of the dreams had concentrated on my guilt at having spurned Peggy in the ninth grade when she had revealed to someone that she liked me. Over and over in my dreams I had wanted to tell Peggy that I had really liked her, too, and that I repented my bad behavior. Was it possible that someone might have read one of those dreams on my web site and have contacted Peggy, and that Peggy might finally know how I felt? I hoped so.

Wendy was continuing to talk. She was concentrating on whether I was qualified to be elected to perform the work which was the subject of the vote. Finally, she made a reference to my use of drugs. Clearly she indicated using drugs was wrong, and just as clearly, she indicated she was aware I had used drugs. However, I could detect she was uncertain whether I still used drugs. Apparently she had gleaned from my dreams that my use of drugs had abated over the years, although she wasn't quite sure whether I had completely stopped using drugs.

I clearly saw the great divide between us. Although she seemed like someone with whom I wouldn't mind being friends, she belonged to the camp who thought hallucinogenic drugs were evil. I didn't belong to that army. To the contrary, I believed controlled use of hallucinogens was extremely beneficial. As to my own use, I rarely used them: I calculated I had used hallucinogens twice in the last 10 years. To me, people who had never used hallucinogens, and who nevertheless condemned the drugs, were simply frightened by something they didn't understand, and their ignorance made them dangerous.

However, from Wendy's tone, I could tell that from her reading my dreams, she had become more accepting of me, even though she was leery of the drugs. And I felt closer to her. She stood up, and Monica (another girl with whom I first came in contact in 1967 when we were in the tenth grade together, and who was also probably now in her mid 20s) stood up next to Wendy. The two of them seemed to fit together. I was happy to see both again, and I began to think how nice it would be if we could see more of each other. We talked, and they seemed to agree we ought to meet at regular intervals. The plan seemed like a good one to me.

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