A very steep slope of white sand; rolling down it, climbing back up with difficulty. A kind of beach house at the top, I think.

My mother saw someone down in the distance, dressed in purple. A girl? At first she thought it was C, then she said oh it's a priest.

I had a few things in my pocket, including a very small hedgehog. I held them out on my palm, and worried about the hedgehog. Was it still alive? Only just? Had it been in my pocket too long? I wanted to throw it out onto a lush grassy area to give it a chance to recover, but all around was only that sand, and eventually I tossed it down the sand slope hoping it would find some welcoming marram grass or something to graze in.

There was a jumble sale, a my scribbled notes from early this morning seem to say "green cave" or "green canoe", a number of stalls. There was a kind of New Age fair feel to it, pagan women selling geodes: I rememember the variety of geodes. I warned them to be careful, to keep an eye on their stock.

President Chávez was a woman in a long presidential palace. I can remember her face, and the long corridors, but not what happened there. Something to do with coverage of a coup d'etat, perhaps. I left her and we went to a car, two girls (age twelve or so?) and me. They comforted each other in the back seat.

Shakespeare was bidding for a copy of a parchment. The scribe had said £5 to someone, who thought that was a bit steep, but Shakespeare was delighted and said £6, £10, a hundred pounds, "with my head as a watermark!" -- It was fine parchment in the shape of a three-dimensional moulded head.

My hair was sticking up strangely. My mother and sister commented on it, said I should do something about it. I snapped at them and made my poor sister cry.