By Roberta, Wash.

"DREAM" "74 FOR REAL!

ARTICLE

On Wednesday morning of "DREAM” '74 I was a little uptight. We had breakfast in our beautiful condominium suite at the "DREAM" site on the Oregon Coast, watching the pounding surf on the beach below. Then we dressed carefully for our trip to the well- known resort a few miles up the beach where Glorea and her talented staff of one of the nation's finest modeling schools, would teach us comportment-that is, the body language of graceful standing, walk- ing, sitting, going up and down stairs, and getting in and out of an automobile.

The reason I was uptight was because of the weather. It was a beautiful, bright, sunny day at the beach, and that meant harsh, mer- ciless light. Frankly, when I go out dressed, I prefer the friendly shadows of evening, or the dim, flattering light of a cocktail lounge. I know you understand.

We boarded the chartered bus and Floyd, the driver and our friend from "DREAM” '73, tooled expertly along U.S. 101 and parked at the top of a rise overlooking the restaurant at the resort. From there we would walk down the hill between the restaurant and the motel, and then down a flight of stairs to the banquet rooms under the restaurant and overlooking the beach. There were a few resort guests in sight, but they were at a distance. Then suddenly, when we were all out of the bus and trooping down the hill, a strange man and his wife, on the way to the beach, emerged from the motel and fell right into line with us.

It was a moment of truth. Darn that bright sunshine

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