I was in a house which vaguely reminded me of the Logan Street House. I had bought about fifteen empty cans which at one time had contained vegetable juice. The cans were red and white and were about a half pint in size. Each can had a date of a different year on it. I began lining the cans up in a row according to the year.
As I lined up the cans, I noticed a white line went across the front of each can. The line slanted to a different height on each can, but as they were lined up the line seemed to connect from can to can. When the line got back to around 1974 it did not connect straight and the line was lower than the subsequent year. Also on the can of the year 1979 the line was red instead of white. I thought that the cans were probably collectors items and that I might be able to sell them. Suddenly, the cans fell over and I began lining them up again.
Finally, I walked into the kitchen where I found my sister (14-15 years old). A Daschhound, which seemed not to have eaten in several days, was also in the kitchen. I pulled out some dry dog food for the dog and spilt some on the floor. The dog nosed around the food but it did not eat it. I thought, "Well it must not be starving or it would eat that anyway."
The dog jumped up on the counter and I had to run it off the counter. I proceeded to put some dog food into a large pan and mix water into it. I noticed a can on the counter that was similar to the ones I had been lining up earlier. It had some kind of tomato sauce in it which I began pouring over the dog food to make the food taste better.
I realized I had put much too much water into the dog food. I poured some water back into the sink, stopped, and then poured more water into the sink. I set the pan on the floor and poured more tomato sauce over it. The dog then began to eat the food.
I was planning to leave Portsmouth soon. I thought I might go to Columbus for a while and I might even spend a few days with Steve
Buckner while I was there. I pulled out a map, but it turned out to be a map of Kentucky. I began thinking I might go to Kentucky instead.The map showed two major cities in Kentucky outlined in yellow. One was on the eastern side and was called "Nice." I wondered if the name should be pronounced like the name of the French city "Nice" or like the English adjective "nice." The other city was toward the center of the state. A small town close to the larger city was called "Pomeroy." I thought I had heard the name "Pomeroy" somewhere before. I had never heard of either of the two large cities. I thought I might visit them.
I also needed to send a letter in a large vanilla envelope to someone in the large central city. I was not entirely sure of the name of the city, but I thought it was "Khacket." I also thought the name of the city might be "Ksent."
I picked up my envelope and walked down the street with it. I saw a woman on the street, stopped her and asked her if she knew the name of the city. She ignored me and walked on. I wondered if I had affronted her; I had not meant to.
I walked on and arrived at an overnight delivery service. The man behind the counter helped me put the right name of the city on the envelope. I asked him if the letter would arrive the following day and he told me it would.
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