Last night I dreamt I woke and walked to the bathroom: this was not my bathroom, and not her bathroom. I was in an apartment somewhere in the city. I accepted this. I cleaned up, and as I looked at myself in the mirror, I heard a cat. I heard a cat. I recognized the sound. I looked down and saw Lily. This is my cat, I thought. Or was. What is she doing here? Wait, I thought; I’m here. She clearly lives here. What am I doing here, that’s the question. There was no one in the apartment. My clothes were there, but just some of them, so I put them on. Finally, Amy came back, saying “oh, you’re awake,” and things like this; in the car she explained that I was staying in Meg’s apartment while she and Steve were out of town. Steve owns a house on MacCauslind and keeps an apartment on the south side, but I can’t remember which neighborhood. At least, that’s what I was told in the dream. I laughed and said she must have been glad to meet a guy with that much together. No wonder she likes him. But I thought I remembered that the house was his family’s, not his. I couldn’t remember if I’d met him. I certainly couldn’t remember agreeing to house sit.