He is somehow trapped in the net he has set. It is legitimate somehow, though wrong; he has reported an abuse for which he is punished. There is much dismay in his face and something is happening though I don't know what it is. It is not fair, but logical, given the milieu, which is strange and unidentified. A cubicle is closing in on him. He is all alone, and in much woe. It's like the rabbits caught by the wily hawk.
My right hand fills. I am walking with Niki J on my left, and I become aware a young gamin is to my right, holding my hand. Isn't that sweet?
But Niki J comes around the front of me to tell her, no, no, you must walk behind. So the little girl does that. Disengages, falls back apace.
I have a sense in my right hip now. I feel and realize...the little waif has sliced the seam of my rear pocket and she almost has my wallet free.
She jumps away, climbs onto a scaffolding. Maybe she thinks I won't follow her. I follow her. It's my duty.
We proceed up the dark steel bars. I catch onto her, grab hold of her flank. That seems to be enough. I return down the tubing.
I have now a little hound, a "Golden Medley" like Max. I return her to her owner, a young guy who knew the waif. He is so pleased, he is playing with the pup. I say, "We must report her, I suppose." The waif has apparently stolen the hound. All this, like all else in my dreams, I become aware of through some unknown learning. It is just understood, though nothing proceeding before has even suggested it.
"Oh, no, no," he says, laughing and rolling with the little pup. "Just forget it."