As we are walking through a corridor between seated people, one set of guests starts threatening me very aggressively. One of them, in particular, seems to be taunting me. He pulls his fist back in a cocked position as if to punch me. I recognize this person, and my instinct is to beat the crap out of him. But I refrain and simply ask politely repeatedly if he will please let us pass. Others are watching. My friend, Chris, is behind me as part of my party. This person again threatens to punch me, and his party also make remarks at me. At one point a foot is threateningly positioned in front of my face. But I maintain my cool, and eventually they let me pass, as they must.

Another table of guests, who had watched the altercation, accuse me and Nina of being at fault, saying something about how the table we wanted was quite large, large enough, as if explaining the other guests’ aggression. The man gestures toward the table, which is a two-person table with a table cloth. We continue walking. As we walk, a Mexican waiter comes up and says that we should have said something. I say that Nina was about to say something to the woman who was responsible, but that she had resisted the temptation.

Then we are inside a house, an old stone house that is part of the estate. As my party and others are inside, I climb out of a small window. Out behind the house, I peer inside at the party, but I know that there is someone out here who is coming to get me. A murderer dressed in a black outfit which is a bit worn out and faded, including a hood that seems to be quite disheveled. This person sneaks up behind me, but I know they are there and turn around in time. This killer is known to be at this party.

The guy who threatened to punch me is named Matthew Boldface. Despite being threatening, he is not the true killer, although he may know the true killer.

In the back yard, there is a band preparing to play to a small audience. I step into an awkward small corner of the yard, with a member of the band’s group is standing, and attempt to get out of the way to watch the music. On the other side of the performance area is the crowd of other guests. Where I am standing appears to be uncomfortable, so I move to a slightly better spot within the same corner. There is a Mexican traditional band that begins to play Carmen, the opera, however the music is “America” from West Side Story.

My Grandmother, uncle, and my parents all arrive at the house, and I quickly turn off the player trying to conceal that I have been listening to it. However, I think my grandmother has already concluded that I was listening. She gives me a kiss and light hug, very brusquely compared to usual. I notice at this point that she is extremely short and I wonder if she has always been that short. She harriedly walks off as if on an important errand to do around the house.

Uncle, cousin Gruber, parents, and I are in some sort of gourmet deli. We are each sitting on stools eating chocolates of various kinds, like chocolate covered nuts and such things found in gourmet delis. Gruber and I are conversing when accidentally a bag of chocolates drops to the floor and some spill out. Gruber notices that some of the chocolates on the floor are of a sort that have a block of some edible sort covered in chocolate. So he picks a few of those off the floor and eats them. I do the same.

Uncle Peter arrives with a brush and pan to pick up the spilled chocolate. He mentions discretely something about picking up and keeping the “treasure”. He carefully picks up some of the chocolate to salvage it while throwing out others. My mother eats some of the chocolate too.

Daniel and I are standing outside on a street – a pedestrian walkway of sorts with stone steps at a slow incline, European-looking. We are with Daniel’s girlfriend, who is cute, young, and dressed in a white tee shirt. As we are talking, she walks over to another guy on the opposite side of the walkway who is walking with the assistance of a cane. She and he obviously know each other, and at some point they start kissing unabashedly. She is being playful with him as if they are good friends and lovers. Daniel and I watch, and I make some remark towards Daniel about how he knows how to pick them.

The guy with the cane is good looking and also dressed casually. He has a friend with him. The crippled guy’s name is Anthony, and he introduces his friend, who is a bit burlier and darker haired, as being Tony. Anthony has a motorcycle and he says to the girl that Tony helps him with his bike. He mentions to the girl that actually he intends the motorcycle to be Tony and his together, as if sharing out of gratitude for Tony’s assistance. The girl seems to act also very comfortably around Tony, although they do not kiss.

Daniel and I are now on the inclined stone street together with a group of people standing in a forward-facing formation as if in a parade. Some of our group have entered a shop in order to get drunk. Those of us on the street are not drinkers and are waiting for those in the shop to get their alcohol needs done so we can continue on.

Toddy is giving a screening of his film in a large nice apartment. There are many people standing around waiting for Toddy to present. Toddy is sitting at a stool in front of the audience, and gives a soliloquy about how and why he made this film, and many interesting anecdotes. As he is talking, it becomes clear that this is an interview filming done by Daniel where he films Toddy talking about his latest film for a movie in its own right.

We start running, and I realize that we haven’t made any plan about what to do with thte car.  Chris carries on running, and I pull the car along to the curb, trying to find a place to leave it.

There is a short section of the curb that seems like a good place to leave the car, but a sign says something  about narrow cars only being allowed there.  It seems to me that my car is not the sort that is allowed to be left there, so I pull it back towards a parking lot (from which we came?).  People at the parking lot tell me that we are not likely to get a ticket before we get back to the car – this is Canada.

New scene: I am listening to a girl talk with two other guys about how she built her website:  She says she used flourless (i.e. codeless)  design with cake (i.e. CakePHP?), whch she found did the job very well.  I see the words flourless and cake as if they are links on a web page.  The guys are asking detailed questions…

…and that’s when the squirrel scratching outside my window woke me up.

I was part of a special-ops squad of casually-dressed military people.  My team was getting ready to go out on an operation. Each of us was getting attention from medical personel, who seemed more like sports injury therapists in their demeanor and in the hubbub of activity that was quite unlike an ordinary physician’s office, and more like what I see occuring in the sports therapy room near the locker rooms in NYU’s gym.

While we were being properly bandaged, medicated, or whatever else was required to prepare us for battle, a television at the far side of the room began broadcasting the face of a bald red-headed man with unkempt hair, and a beard talking to the camera.  We all watched it with rapt attention, knowing that he was a member of our team who was now being held captive.  Perhaps it was he who we were about to attempt to rescue.  There were, in fact, two team members who were being held, and it’s possible that both of them made appearances at different times on the television.

The doctor and I began discussing my issue.  I had a small maggot-looking worm in my ear that required removal.  The doctor proceeded to remove the worm from my ear without difficulty.  The doctor cleaned the worm with some lotion, until it glistened off-white in the fluorescent-light lit room.

But I needed the worm back, because having it in my ear gave me enhanced perception.  Without the worm, I would possibly be incapable of performing the important task at hand.  I began surreptitiously spreading some other lotion evenly onto a paper towel which I then folded up and carried out with me as the team and I left the room and began our mission.  I was going to put the worm back in my ear.

There are several people milling about, none of whom I recognize, but all of whom are apparently known to me. Philip is walking away with his girlfriend. They are leaving. One of the people standing about, a thin dark-haired man, says, “Kill Philip!” Apparently this is a chance to do what we’ve all been waiting for. I realize that if anyone is capable of doing it, it is me. So I immediately start walking after them towards their car.

I arrive at a dome-shaped toilet, half underground. There is a window at the top of the dome where I can see outside. I am too tall to stand inside the dome, so I begin to urinate crouched over a bit. As I am urinating, I hear Philip arrive. He is talking to his girlfriend saying, “Let me buy you one more drink.”  At first I can see them through the dome roof of the toilet, but they don’t see me.  Then they disappear from my view.

It is clear that Philip doesn’t want to leave. He is being very open to his girlfriend about his ambition to get her drunk and then have sex with her. She makes excuses for why that doesn’t make sense, and tries to convince him to take her home instead. As I am urinating, it becomes clear that she is not really his girlfriend. They do not live together, and the way they are talking about sex indicates a sort of unfamiliarity with each other, although they have, or have at some point had some sort of relationship.

I finish urinating and climb out of the dome. Philip sees me and immediately shoots a gun at me. After an initial shot or two, the gun runs out of bullets. Without much effort, I am able to get control of Philip and the gun, and he ends up on the ground. I fire the gun at him, but there are no bullets left. I place the gun at the back of his head, and pull the trigger. Although the gun has no ammunition, a very small protrusion comes out of the barrel of the gun, similar to the metal apparatus in a glue gun that forces the glue stick forward when you press the trigger.

The protrusion presses gently into the back of Philip’s skull, and this causes him to have a seizure. I take note of this, and continue to press the gun several more times into the back of his head, reinducing seizures each time. Eventually Philip is either dead or severely incapacitated, and other people, who must have heard the commotion, start to arrive on the scene.

Philip’s girlfriend instinctively grabs the gun off the ground and tries to remove it from the scene. But I say, “No, leave it there” within hearing range of the other people, indicating to them that we have nothing to hide.