Back in 1980, not long after my parents died, I was appointed to a task force to create a report for the governor on the subject of the energy crisis and low and fixed income consumers. We would meet once a month in different parts of the state, spending 2 days discussing the issue. One month we met at a resort hotel between Butte and Anaconda at the location of a natural warm springs, called Fairmont. I was very excited that night about the progress I was able to bring to the project that day.

I was staying on the second floor of the hotel, and each room had large glass doors that opened to a balcony. That night I woke up and floated out through the glass, feeling the resistance of the metal frame of the door, as I passed through it to the outside. I was looking down and saw yellow lines. At first I could not figure out what I was seeing, then realized it was the yellow lines painted for the parking places in the parking lot. I realized I was outside looking at the steam from the pond, and as soon as I thought, I wonder if I could reach my mother from here, I was back inside and in my bed.

The oddest thing for me now is that almost 30 years later, I spend weeks at a time living in that hotel, sometimes staying in that same room, as I work a couple months a year in Butte for a company that provides my lodging at that hotel out in the country.