I dreamt that I woke up and that I went from my bedroom to my livingroom a floor below. There I found that a number of boards with my paintings on both sides had fallen off their battens, which surprised me because I had heard no noise in the house during the night. Actually, many of the boards were clinging improbably between the wall and the railing of the six stairs connecting two levels of the livingroom. When I looked more closely, I could not see how to take the whole arrangement apart and return the boards to their battens. If I would touch even one of them, all the others would fall to the floor, and I was afraid some of them could get hurt in the fall. But it seemed that someone had carefully arranged them while I was asleep, for they could not have fallen in such an improbable way. I woke up in the middle of the night before I could figure out what had happened. I was eager to check my paintings at once, but I managed to calm myself down at last. It was but a dream, I kept telling myself. When I woke up in the morning, I hurried downstairs at once. Of course, all the boards with my paintings where in their place. Curiously, I am getting concerned about both my paintings and my writings. Any interference with them touches me deeply. Previously unfamiliar protectiveness is creeping into my bones, or so it seems.