I dreamt that I was at a lecture about a fascinating environmental project. The lecture hall was crowded. Lauren and the children were with me. The speaker, who initiated the project in his youth, was in his eighties. After the lecture I tapped his shoulder and congratulated him for his work. I still remember the feel of his black flannel suit under my fingers. As we were walking out of the lecture hall and chatting about the project, he transformed into an old woman. She was also dressed in black but in an artsy sort of way. By the time we reached the street, the old woman turned into herself in her youth. I recognized her from the slides shown during the lecture. “It must have been very difficult to get so many people to work together,” I told her. “No,” she said and glanced at me sideways, “everything kind of fell into its place.” I still remember that it struck me that she had too much makeup for my taste. The shiny blue on her eyelids was unappealing. We stopped at the light at a street crossing. I noticed that Lauren and the children just reached the other side of the street. From Lauren’s behavior I could tell she was a bit miffed because I was talking to the young woman, who was quite attractive, too. Only when I woke up I realized she looked very like Tracey Emin in her early twenties.