Two case histories from one woman. Her husband wanted to sell their home; she knew from having sold two and bought two that a house cannot be sold until you stop mentally sleeping in it, so she let the agents try for four months, and they gave up. Then she agreed to the sale, slept in imagination in West Hollywood for four successive nights, and on the fifth day a stranger walked through the house once, bought it, and paid their price - with no agent, so the five per cent commission stayed in the family. Then they wanted two units under one roof for four adults, ten cats, three dogs and a parakeet, fenced, completely panelled inside, at a price the agents called ridiculous, north of the Strip. The lady realtors laughed outright and the men looked sad; they said no such place existed. She slept in imagination in such a house. An agent finally took them to King's Road 'for laughs': a twenty-five-foot room panelled in redwood, two acres, like two houses under one roof. Standing on a balcony above the living room she saw her husband below by the fireplace with his pipe and a look of complete satisfaction. That night she stood on that same balcony in imagination, held its railing, looked again at her husband, and fell asleep in the act. Next day: 'You have bought yourself a house!' The owners split the property and they got the house and an acre at their own price, after twelve days of sleeping in a dream house.