While visiting my father in the Gallia County Farmhouse, I found an old kite which I had left there a long time ago. My father said he had wondered what I had intended to do with the kite. I hadn't been sure myself why I had brought the kite to the Farm, but I saw that now would be a good time to fly it. I looked for some twine, found a roll, and began working on the kite. The two sticks for the kite were broken and half of each stick was missing. Nevertheless, I was able to assemble the kite, and I headed for the door.

A young boy (about 5 years old) was also in the Farmhouse. He was a likeable little fellow, and I invited him to go outside with me. I was glad when he joined me; I enjoyed his company.

Outside the wind was perfect for kite flying. I soon had the kite in the air, and both the boy and I were enjoying watching it. However, I needed more twine to make the kite go higher; so finally I pulled the kite back in and headed back to the Farmhouse to look for more twine.

After I had entered the Farmhouse, just as I was about to walk into the living room, I overheard my father and my sister talking in the living room. They were unaware of my presence, and I could hear them discussing me and my dream web site. I was surprised to hear my father had been reading my dreams. It didn't matter to me if he read them; the site was open to the public; but it made me feel a little uncomfortable to learn that he had been reading the dreams without my knowledge. My father asked my sister if she had read any of my dreams lately, and he added, "Its getting worse."

He seemed concerned about me. But my sister's tone only reflected her absorption in herself, not any interest in me; she responded that she had been reading the dreams and she added rather self-importantly, "Usual vampire stuff."

I stepped into the room. My father was sitting in a chair and my sister was lazing under a cover on the couch, criticizing. I felt as if I needed to say something to defend my web site. My father didn't understand the site. He seemed curious, while my sister simply wanted to attack the site. I tried to explain that at least I was doing something creative. I reflected on my sister's lack of creative abilities; her only creative talent I could think of was a certain ability to arrange furniture in her house – hardly a talent to be proud of. I suggested I could become like they, and "…do like you do and do nothing creative. Just spend all your time on making money."

Indeed, it seemed as if they had little else in life, except money and material possessions, to interest them. My sister mused out loud, "Making money."

I turned my back and walked outside. Discussing the matter further was pointless. I had more important things to do: fly the kite. I looked up the hill toward where the old tobacco barn should be. Instead, the whole hill was overgrown with trees, except for a green field beside the house. From there I had a good view of the surrounding hills. This would be a good place to fly the kite.

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