I live on a historical re-creation of a nineteenth-century farm in a California state park. Tonight I hike over to my parents' house. They're giving a dinner party.

I have fun at first. A guest plays piano and sings, very well. But then my parents order us all to cram onto the piano bench at once. Sit stiff, afraid to inhale. Long awkward silence. I break it by plinking out scales note by note with one finger. Anything to break that silence.

My sister Miriel snaps at me "You always do this, get nonverbal with strangers!" Yep, that'll make me less shy! Thanks, Mir.

Though soon all the non-family guests leave. Maybe she's right--my plinky playing annoyed them.

Maybe not. I can see two other possible causes. Big, scaly causes--my dad's two huge pet crocodiles came in, and the guests left in a hurry!

I tell Miriel "I fear them a lot less than I used to." But I wonder if it's really true. Even if, would my lack of fear mean the crocs are safe? I don't think so...

I leave the House of Crocs. Hike back to my historical farmhouse, avoiding open fields and keeping to tree cover wherever I can. Humans scare me more than crocodiles.

The farm is gone. Just a meadow, and the San Andreas Rift Valley beyond--wild watershed land.

My sisters pull up in a pink Cadillac convertible. They're both heading down the Freeway of Love to Los Angeles, with friends. My first thought? I wonder if her friends are dangerous--outa sheer habit! Since we grew up with crocs. Then I catch myself--"Come on," I think, "why should the rest of the world be as crazy as our parents?"

NEXT DAY

Pretty clear message, though why it linked pianos and crocodiles, I dunno. Not items I readily associate; I could see elephants and piano keys, or crocodiles and scary luggage. But this?

After I write the dream down, I try to practice piano; pull out my Casio synth. But it conks out! It's plugged in firmly; a break in the (cheap flimsy) powercord? Wiggle it, the keyboard powers up... and dies again. Damn.

So I head for the spare room and practice on the clunky old upright piano we never use. Better than nothing, right? Plink, plink... ugh. WAY out of tune.

I give up and watch TV instead. On comes the Tracy Ullman Show--comedy improv. Tracy goes to a therapist who tries a new shortcut: a brain-scope that can bare her Secret Heart's Desire.

What is it? Comes into focus... Tracy wants... her annoying co-worker... to be... well... eaten by crocodiles!

Well, at least I don't have to worry now where the pianos and crocs came from. Or, more to the point, when.

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