Dream XXII

I was going to take a walk along a lake shore. I had a novel by John Wyndham, but rather than carry this with me, I placed it, opened to where I had stopped reading, on some slightly wet sand. I was a little worried that this wasn't good for the book, but thought that if the walk was quick enough it shouldn't make any difference.

Some young woman parked her car across from where I was, and walked along the same path I took.

Further along the shore, some middle aged men, dressed in shirts and ties, were trying to combine two floating wharves into one large one, so that their boats would be more accessable to either group. They were lashing the timbers together with ropes, though somewhat loosely so that the two halves of the super-wharf still floated a bit free of each other.

When we both returned to the cabin where the walk began, I wanted to wash my hands and went inside. As I was entering, I saw the young woman pick up my book. She placed it under her arm, walked over to her car, and drove away before I could decide how to react.