kate had built an indoor waterslide as an installation. She had explained it to me and some other people--it had something to do with the structure of the spaces you thought of as "yourself" and the spaces you thought of as "others" and the relationships between them, but there was more to it than that. I didn't really understand it. The bottom of the trough was black. They could turn the water flow on and off from down below. Lots of people were there, some to ride it, some just passing by and noticing the crowd, some as art students taking notes. One guy had even made a very colorful sketch of it, and was showing it in his open black sketchbook to some others gathered around him. It was almost my turn to go. Over my left shoulder there was a classroom and this good-looking guy with pretty, long, sandy blond hair glanced over at me and the few people I was in line with. He gave a smile that was a hair sarcastic, and a generous portion of amused and approving. I felt good. It was my turn, but the water wasn't flowing in the trough. "Turn on the water!" I yelled. The girl before me, a young black girl with two pigtails of her hair, went anyway, and screamed all the way down the first stretch. (The slide went straight down for about 40 feet, then made a semi-circular turn and kept going down for another 40 feet. From the starting point, you couldn't see the ending point, but from another balcony in this shopping mall/school, you could see the whole thing.) Finally they turned on the water. I was wondering if I was going to scream or not (then something woke me up.)