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The following is an actual dream included in my dream journal, and does not describe actual facts

Dream of: 30 November 1980 (3) "Fill It Up"

Walls (my high school buddy from Portsmouth), MacDonald (a former high school classmate), and Marshall (a former Portsmouth acquaintance who later became an attorney) were at my house in Portsmouth. We left and all rode out into the country together. After we got out of the car, we crossed a muddy creek (in which I sank in the mud) and trudged on until we finally reached my Cabin. The Cabin was much bigger than normal and had four rooms. On the inside it resembled the House in West Portsmouth (a house where I lived in 1971 while I was attending the branch of Ohio University in Portsmouth).

Considerable furniture was in the house. When I found some of Walls' old shirts, I remembered times when we used to go out and he would wear those shirts.

I walked into another room and found five or six smoking pipes and a small container of marijuana. After I saw MacDonald smoking some marijuana, I also began smoking, but the marijuana wasn't good and I didn't feel any effects.

We walked out of the Cabin and as we headed to the car, Marshall commented, "Yea, that Cabin is a really nice place, just to go out and visit for awhile and get away from everything."

When Marshall continued to say he wished he had a place like that, I began thinking I would like to sell him the Cabin for about $5,000. Of course he would need about five acres of land to go with it. He could buy the land from my step-grandfather Clarence. When I visualized the exact area where Marshall could buy the land, I pictured the Cabin as being near a creek.

I wasn't going to be needing the Cabin, because I didn't plan to stay near Portsmouth. I planned to practice law on an international level. Even though Marshall was an attorney, I didn't know how to tell him of my intention to practice international law.

We all boarded the car and rode around for a while. Marshall had a tape deck. After Walls and MacDonald put on earphones and began listening to music, Marshall and I began talking. I told Marshall I had taken the Law School Admission Test and when he asked me what my score had been, I told him I had scored 680. He said, "That’s real good. You'll be able to get into law school without any problem."

I asked what he had made on the test. He said he hadn't done that well and had only received a 555. I said, "Well, that's not bad. It's better than average."

Marshall pulled out a baggie which contained some very green marijuana. He gave me a pipe and told me to fill it up. After I filled it up about half way, I asked him if I should put in more. He said, "Yea, just go ahead and fill it up."

Marshall talked about my father. Apparently many people knew that my father smoked marijuana. Marshall said if I had been nicer to my father, my father would have done a lot more for me. He said, "Yea, but you just won't be nice to him and do what he wants you to do, will you."

I replied, "Nope."

Marshall drove close to the Logan Street House (a house in Portsmouth where my mother lived from 1971 to 1977, before selling the house to my sister). Apparently my father was now living in the house. I told Marshall not to pull up in front of the House, because even though my father smoked marijuana, I didn't want to smoke in front of him. Marshall said ok. We weren't smoking any marijuana anyway. After I had filled the pipe up with marijuana, I had given it back to Marshall and he had laid it on the dash of the car, where it remained.

I wondered about lawyers smoking marijuana in Portsmouth. I concluded that smoking must not be important since Marshall smoked marijuana.

I asked Marshall where he had bought the marijuana and he replied that it had been grown in January and that it was being sold around Harvard.

When we passed by a house and a man standing in a doorway looked at me, I thought he looked like a lawyer. Over top of the door were the words "____________ practice".

I told Marshall I had just returned from Puerto Rico. No one seemed to be aware of that fact. I asked Walls if he knew I had been in Puerto Rico and he said he didn't. I said, "Yea, I've been in Puerto Rico for about ten weeks."

That surprised everyone. Marshall said, "In every country you've been in, you've been a folk hero."

I said, "No, no. That’s not the case at all."

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