I have the sensation of someone watching me. I turn but there is no one there. I feel guilty. A deep unease. I turn off the light and get into bed. I close my eyes and imagine Miss Bates. Dear Miss Bates. Her eyes are closed too. She is also in bed, snoring. She dreams and I dream. In the morning we wake. Her mother still sleeps. Miss Bates gets out of bed, scampers into the kitchen, pulls a book and a pen and ink out from a cupboard. I watch over her shoulder as she writes down all the images she saw while she slept. The things that were said. She is embarrassed and confused. But there is something to be known here. She puts the book, pen, and ink away. She starts the fire for the kettle. The day begins.