FryingMan

+ in boy scout camp, the scouts washed my cups and dishes, which are lying on a table to dry, face down. I'm looking for my cups and dishes. There are some of my current [true] plastic kitchen cups there as well as my camping Sierra cup and plates. The plastic cups are not engraved or marked, I think about taking a pocket knife and carving/scratching my initials on them. I pick up my sierra cup and see my cursive engraved initials on the back. I see a few other small portable plates of mine as well, with handles.

+ Long sequence of scenes
1. people playing wilderness golf: they're up the hill, they're not part of our group. They have bright orange golf balls. They're teeing off in our direction and I'm ducking, concerned about getting his by the balls

2. I'm examining closely some chunks of granite on the ground. I reach to push/move them, and they fall apart: they've become almost like sand. I notice interesting textures on one side: they have been pressed up against petrified wood and the pattern of the roots of the wood are impressed in the stone. My wife sees this and tells me her mother wants to see it as well.

3. I'm in a room with healing benefits (a sauna?). My wife is there and her frail [now deceased] mother is there as well. There is another woman in the room, she is sick? My wife's mother does not want to be in the same room with the sick woman because she thinks that the woman's sickness will transfer to her.

4. (A lot of action in and around a dilapidated cabin). In a cabin, this cabin is special because it was built inside a greenhouse [IWL saw story about house in Sweden which was enclosed into a huge greenhouse]. I'm asking if it is too hot in the house in the summer time.

5. Fruit pickers & sword fight. I see a hand holding fruits like mandarin oranges. I'm asking if prior experience in handling fruit is required. I have a conflict with one of the pickers, a guy. Then we're having a sword fight. He's more experienced, but I'm on higher ground. We both have swords and I'm doing my best to block the blows he's raining down upon me. I'm trying to get in quick ripostes when I can but I'm really focusing on blocking his swings. At one point I get a solid stab with the tip of my blade into his left hip, I hold it there for a second and pull it out. He stops fighting, and starts bleeding. I return to the dilapidated cabin and say that he was bleeding a lot of green blood. Someone says he was an alien. Someone else told me he died from that wound.

+ bus, angry guy, swords, martial arts club (epic)
1. I'm on a crowded bus, I leave my backpack on my seat to hold my place and walk to the front of the bus. I then return. There are people in front of me heading back to my seat, I hope they don't take it. A guy does take it, moving my backpack out of the way. I tell him that's my seat, he gets really mad, I keep arguing with him and eventually get my seat back. I keep arguing that "if I had remained in my seat, it wouldn't have been any different for you!". I think he has a sword.

We get off the bus and I see his sword: it is long (4+ feet blade), bright shiny metallic, wide-bladed tapering from hilt to tip just slightly (two inches - 3 inches at the tip), covered with engravings, and I see the edges are very thick and dull. I grab the blade with my right hand and confirm it is not sharp. I say "It's like a big hammer!". Then I unsheath my awesome blade. It is about as long as a Japanese katana, slightly more curved, sharpened only on one side, but it is extremely sharp, I have no desire to even touch it to test its sharpness I know it's so sharp.

2. We're standing outside a martial arts club and go in. Class is underway. There is a famous master running class. The students are various ages. I'm taking the class with my young sons. Some of the students have dark burgundy ghis, and some have dark navy blue ghis. The teacher has set up a jumpy trampoline thing in the room, and two of the experienced students (including a younger boy) are very energetically jumping on this and running across the room. I notice that they are now wearing only sumo-like briefs underwear. I think they've taken off their ghis because this is a very vigorous exercise and they don't want to sweat while wearing their ghis.

My sons start talking during the instruction, and I get angry with them and tell them to listen to the teacher. The old master says "who are the little monkeys talking? But I am not the teacher here, instructor XYZ is." I'm sparring then with some guy, and I beat him.

Class is over and there is some food going around. The master is going behind a corner and returning with plates of food. He comes out once with plate full of large prawns and asks me if I want one. I say yes, I will. I eat one with cocktail sauce. It is good and slightly crunchy. I keep eating the shrimp but they grow a bit in size, including growing really long nasty shrimp legs. I tell myself while feeling slightly disgusted that it's OK it's all good shrimp and keep eating them.

After class some of the students set up a board game at one of the tables, it looks like a miniatures game of some sort of D&D.

I'm trying to figure out the class schedule, on which days is training available. I'm very unclear about the schedule. The master mumbles something about "Wednesdays, Thursdays..." and I'm trying to confirm: can I come Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays? I don't get an answer.

I go into the back and the master is there with a review board from the martial arts organization. There is an investigation of the Master's judging at a recent event. There are square blocks laid out on the table representing a bout and the Master's judging of it. I think it's unfair he's being persecuted this way. I bring him some things from the main room and put them in front of him on the table.

The master is telling me the French guy (and his French friends) that I beat in sparring hates me now. I think "that's stupid, we should all help each other and work together to improve." But I resolve to beat my new foes, and make a group of other students and we clasp hands in comradeship.

I'm talking to the master about the studio's business. He says they haven't had a lot of luck, but the best advertisement they have is a box they rent in New York for $6 per month. I think that's great deal and I ask more about it. He says it is in a location where a lot of people walk past
it on their way to watch television.

+ final showdown with my gang of bad guys versus the cops. In a dark room, we're piling (weapons?) into a large bin. I'm on the flat surface above the bin. I have a pump action shotgun with a barrel that opens and needs to be cocked back to closed after each shot. I reach behind me and point it at the head of a collegue and pull the trigger, *click*, it's not loaded. I cock it and do the same with another fellow bad guy. Then we're all hunkering down in terror and trembling: a cop/FBI/agent is walking slowly down the corridor outside our room. We're all waiting for him to enter, it's all over. He enters and walks across the laser sights on my gun but I don't even think about firing. We're caught, it's over.

Then the agent is a female, telling the ring leader of our group that his complains are ridiculous: he never even had any fruits growing in his penthouse, and never even had any dirt there. I think this is wrong, I thought I remembered seeing a potted plant there.

Then I'm thinking about a floating penthouse in the sky, how will the waste water be poured out? I think of a long hose running down to a pond on the ground below.