I dreamt that I went to a public lecture either at Oxford or Cambridge. It was to take place in the lush garden of the Deer Club, which was situated at one end of the Deer Park, where many deer actually lived in peace for centuries. The weather was balmy, and the place was crowded by the time I arrived. I remember that I had to look for a chair. When I finally found one in the club and brought it to the garden, I had to surrender it to the lecturer, a plump and jolly lady in her late forties or early fifties. She was most grateful for my services, which she let me know in a peculiar falsetto, but I had to return to the club in search of another chair. The reason for the scarcity of chairs was that the deer liked them, too. They would plop themselves in the largest ones they could find and look around the garden with a contented air. No-one would wish to disturb them, of course. I woke up before I found another chair. Luckily, the lecture was delayed a bit, too.