Dearest Hazel: Last night I dreamed I had an informal piano lesson with Albert Einstein. He was very friendly and communicative, gave off warm energy and a little distant sadness. Later I was at a restaurant with you and (Sue's) Tim and (my brother) Chris. The restaurant was in the strip mall where Half Price Books was when I worked there, only now there was a posh clothing store in that space. So dinner was going well, it was sort of a buffet style thing. Tim & I were grooving on this certain kind of pie. We went together to go get whipped cream. On the way back I noticed the coffee maker, which was combined with the microwave, had a TV screen on it. I told you this. What's next, we wondered! I said to you, "Can I talk to you about printing?" and you said no. So I sat there. But you were kidding, so I started telling you that I had finally learned something, or rather, that the curve of my learning something had suddenly expanded, like a quantum leap or a change in fundamental state or something like that. Okay, so-- then Chris said or did something and you responded to him and the two of you were off on a tangent about some TV show. I got sullen and sat there, long after you were done, then finally I mustered my dignity and said, "Can I tell you this now without getting interrupted?" Chris said yes, like twice, and I said "I know from you Chris, thank you. Katy?" And you had disappeared. So I looked at the wall you had been sitting in front of and it turned into a silent video clip, sweeping my own vision across slowly, smoothly. The wall was covered with various prints and things you had made. There were images, the most austere ones being the most compelling, fragments, pieces of text. Sometimes the "camera" would sweep across pieces of text that had the word "Yes" in it, but it didn't stop until finally, it swept all the way to one end, an and I hadn't seen before, past everything else. There were large pieces of thin natural-colored paper cut roughly into shapes that almost could have been seen abstractly to suggest the word "yes." Camera stops, your voice, slightly digitally distorted, says almost musically, "Yes." So I have to smile despite my earlier woundedness, and I tell you-- "I have learned, or anyway I am learning, how to prioritize my concern." In answer, a play of colored lights pulses and dances out of these odd tubelike structures. First mostly a warm yellow with overtones of leafy green, then pure gold with a final, questioning slice of ice blue. I know or can guess close enough what you meant by that, better even than if you had tried to explain... Understanding, delight, humor, congratulations, excitement, welcoming, request for clarification, gentle cautioning.... So I start to continue the conversation with you-- right before I woke up, feeling more rested than I have in weeks!