It wouldn't do any good to mind, would it now?" he asked."No I suppose not," I said."I'm sure you get lots of her left overs?" he said."Actually that ...is true," I said. "I usually strangle them, but occasionally I stab them." For some reason he decided to move on to someone else.A couple of minutes later Osborn came over with two young men probably too young to be in the place. Still that was none of my business. "Sylvia, I want you to meet Paul and Simon," she said."Is Art Garfunkel coming. Two rolling carts filled with condiments stood near the ends of the table. On the sideboard were finger foods in various beakers. Through the opening between the kitchen and dining room, a mummy and a mad scientist were handing out drinks served in specimen bottles.A black-light lit room painted with abstract forms in phosphorescent paint with chairs arranged around the outer edge of the room was next.The next room was filled chains, ropes, and straps hanging from the ceiling and two ladies. "Well I know you're not getting a hard on itmust be my big sissy." Do you want me to start writing on my computer or do you have acomputer you wanted me to use?"Mrs. Sanders puts her hand out for me to take. "Come on sweetie take myhand and I'll show you where you can write." I take her hand, and we walkdown the hallway and we walk into this massive bedroom.Of course the bedroom is all pink and the room has been decorated for ababy girl. "This will be your bedroom while you stay with us. There. I seem to stand on something but the something I cannot see. I am in a mist, but not the dark mist or fogs of moisture and pollution. It is a bright mist without sensation or substance. It embraces me and I feel no physical touch but know it is the embrace of welcome. If I am loved and cared for, I must be, I am, but who am I? I try to remember who the ‘I’ is and there is only a dark shadow of pain. I cease trying to remember. The mist is retreating, dissolving and I am no longer in a misty.