I had gone to a rather large classroom for the first day of classes in a course I was taking and I was surprised to find Vickie in the class. I hadn't seen her for years and I was glad to see her again. She was sitting at a desk and I was standing next to her talking with another person. The person asked Vickie if she were married and Vickie said she wasn't. I was glad to hear that. I was then asked if I were married and I replied that I was. Vickie seemed downcast when she heard that. She said she thought I had gotten a divorce. I said I had gotten a divorce but then I had remarried the same person again.
But then I told her I wasn't really married. My former wife had indeed remarried, but not to me. Vickie seemed happy to hear that.
I sat next to Vickie and spoke with her. I asked her if, when I had left her years before, she had received any letters from me. She replied she had. I asked her if she knew where I had been and under what conditions. She said she thought I had been in prison in Iran. I was disturbed that she knew where I had actually been, because she hadn't written to me while I had been in prison in Iran. I asked her why she hadn't written me, but she didn't seem to have an answer. I began telling her how dreadful life in prison had been. I had been there eight months and I had been quite depressed. It would have helped much to have received some mail from her. She didn't seem to want to talk about it.
I stood up and walked around the room intending to sit in a carrel near the front of the room and put my books there. My friend Jon was also a student there; he put his books in the carrel next to mine. I was glad to see him.
Vickie had put her books in a carrel in the rear of the room. I thought I would like to sit next to her; I gathered my books together. I also had several maps which I began folding up. I had traveled quite a long distance to reach there and I had used the maps in traveling. I wondered if anyone noticed my folding up the maps and realized how far I had come.
I took all my things back and sat in the carrel on Vickie's left. She and I talked some more. Finally, I tried to put my left arm around her, but she stopped me and said she wasn't ready for anything like that. She seemed to have a somewhat masculine quality about her. She rose and walked away for a while, but then returned and sat in her seat.
I had an old typewriter that I was using in my carrel. It was a manual instrument and I was having difficulty with it. I pulled out an electronic keyboard I had with me and I began using it. It wasn't a regular typewriter keyboard. It had large round keys and groups of letters were together on certain keys. Vickie looked at it; I tried to explain a little how it worked. I showed her, for example, that the letters "ch" were together on one key. Some keys had several different groupings of letters on the same key. Several keys had to be struck at the same time to determine which group of letters would actually be typed. I thought it was similar to a stenographer's typewriter.
My mother entered the room. I stood up and walked over to her. She was looking for my father. The classroom was actually in a large shopping mall; I could see the shoppers outside in the hall through the windows of the room. My mother told me that she and my father had entered the mall two hours ago and that they had become separated so now she couldn't find him. Looking out into the hall I saw my father standing against the opposite wall. I pointed him out to my mother and she seemed relieved.
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