I told her I did not actually want to sell any aluminum cans I found. I wanted to find out how much they were worth, and then melt them down. I said, "I want to make ingots out of them."

I was unsure Bonnie even knew what an ingot was, but I liked the sound of the word "ingot" and repeated it several times.

I told Bonnie I even knew where many tin cans were. I was thinking about a dream I had had in which I had been looking for tin cans and had found many along Route 23 north of Portsmouth near Rosemount. I told Bonnie I was going to begin looking for the cans there.

Shortly thereafter I drove Bonnie's orange Datsun out to Rosemount, a little farther than in my previous dream. After I had stopped the car by the side of the road, I got out, looked over the side of the road, and saw some junk lying there. I thought I could see some aluminum cans; I walked down the bank by the road and soon found some. A couple of the cans were not aluminum. One was smashed flat and looked as if it might actually have been an oil filter instead of a can. One brown can said "alum" on the front; I knew it was 100% aluminum.

When I finally turned around to climb back up the bank, I realized the bank was steep and I could not quite climb back up. I thought I might be able to reach up to the car, grab it,  and pull myself back up, but I was afraid if I did that, I might just pull the car over the bank. I grabbed the car to see what would happen and when I discovered I actually could pull the car toward me, I realized I was not going to be able to use the car to pull myself up.

Since I could not use the car, I walked on down to a place just a little in front of the car where it looked as if I might be able to climb up the bank. When I reached the place, I looked toward the car; a man had raised up the hood of the car and was looking under it. I had something like a rope in my hand; I threw the rope at the man and hit him with it. I then was able to pull myself up on the bank. Once I was on top, I realized the man had not been under the hood of my car at all—he had pulled up in a truck in front of my car and had been working under the hood of his truck.

He and I began fighting; suddenly he snapped a handcuff on my wrist. The handcuff was also around his wrist. We began struggling and I thought he might try to kill me. With the rope sill in my hand, I pulled him right out into Route 23 and began waving the rope around. A truck was headed north on the road; I stood in the road intending to force the truck to stop to help me.

After the truck pulled over, an army jeep pulled up beside us and some soldiers jumped out. The man with the handcuff then fell onto the ground and took the handcuff off me. The soldiers walked over and one of them pulled my hands behind me and handcuffed me. I said, "No. It's that guy. He's the one that started all the problem."

The soldiers did not listen to me; they marched me back to my car. Meanwhile several of the soldiers began searching through my car. I hoped no loose marijuana seeds were in the car.

It looked as if the soldiers were not going to find anything.