I awoke in the night and realized I was in the upstairs back bedroom of the Gay Street House. I walked to the back window, looked at a flat roof outside and climbed out the window onto it. In the distance in the West End of town I could see smoke billowing up from a fire. I thought I might like to go see the fire, but then I noticed some buildings on fire on the other side of the street and saw some orange flames on the roof of one building.
Upon closer scrutiny, I saw some large buildings had already been completely burned out. Some firemen were fighting the fires on the other side of the street. One fireman screamed at me and told me to get out of there, but I screamed back to him, "You're not my boss."
I didn't abandon the roof, but noticed another man had climbed out onto the roof with me through the same window I had come through. He was an oriental man (about 25 years old), apparently a television news reporter, carrying a video camera.
I asked him, "Didn't we work earlier on something together?"
Although I recognized him and apparently had worked with him once before, I couldn't remember where.
Suddenly the roof we were on began to collapse and we fell through. The other fellow fell farther down than I, and I reached out my hand to help him. He grabbed my hand and I pulled him up.
A black man and a small black girl showed up on the roof with us and I also helped them escape. In the process I realized my brother Chris was also out on the roof. I grabbed him and helped him back up and through the window into the house. I then told him I had to go downstairs and outside, because I had a car parked in the front yard which had some of my possessions which I wanted to get before something happened to them.
Instead, I just lay down and began dreaming. In my mind I had an image of a man dreaming in a room. Beside the bed were some things which he used to write his dreams with. I wondered what a psychologist would think if he could read what the man had written.
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