I am in a show. It is an art and/or photography show. I have two portraits. One of them is my brother Dan. He is young and handsome. The other is a young woman. The portraits are not framed. I hold them under the back window of a car. That doesn’t work. I tell my mother that I wish I could stand them up to display them.
I go and come back. My mother has stood the portraits up in these white basket shaped containers made from heavy white poster paper. On the back of the portraits are written quotes from Dan and the young woman saying what they believe in.
My dad comes. He doesn’t notice the portraits. I then go to the show. Everyone is dressed up. Many women have on black outfits with dark pink belts. I feel under dressed. I have on an old outfit.
Feeling: nervous, then sad.