I was living in some sort of community, similar to a dorm situation.  An old man, our neighbor and 'block manager' died.  The rest of the community was more upset about this than my boyfriend Jeremy and I; we didn't know his role, what he did for us.  We could see out the window to a small pool the older man owned. There was a long black cooler, like the freezer section of a supermarket.  Each of us had a section; Jeremy's and mine was the end one on the right side.  I answered a call about a problem with a washing machine, so I ran the machine while empty except for soap as a diagnostic measure, according to the phone call.  I put the line on an automated message system; the automated system would be able to give more information than I would.  I went to my bedroom, which was like my parents' house and lay on my bed.  I was going to masturbate.  My former friend Deanna was there, and I tried kissing her.  She was a bad kisser though and was not receptive to me.  There was a weird taste in my mouth after kissing her.  Another female roommate came in and mentioned something implying we should have sex.  I was aroused and sexually curious.  I told her I would have to ask my boyfriend, but probably.  She asked how serious we were, and I said we'd been together for 3 _ years.  This meant to her that we were going to get married.  Deanna stayed quiet in all of this, and I got the feeling it was because she and her boyfriend Calvin had broken up.  The other girl put her hand on my stomach.  I slid down on the bed somewhat so her hand was on my left breast instead.  Then my old annoying acquaintance Herb came in and a bunch of people were lying on top of me.  I tried scooting out from under them to the edge of the bed and nearly had an orgasm in the process.  We went back to the kitchen.  My brother Stuart said the microwave was broken, that it had some sort of melted plastic buildup in the back.  I said it figured that we got a call about the washing machine but it was the microwave that was broken.  Someone said they wished our neighbor were still alive; he was the one who knew how to take care of things like that.  I asked Stuart to show me the problem with the microwave.  He led me to the refrigerator instead and showed me the buildup, but I didn't really see it.  I went and looked at the section for Jeremy and I and started rummaging for some food.  I was surprised to see we had leftover fried rice; I had forgotten about it.  I realized the rice was frozen though.  I asked if we could turn the temperature up, and the rest of the roommates and I started searching through the coolers to find the temperature control dial.  A guy a few yards away looked through a large stack of things including eggs and juice, and I realized that a lot of the food was communally shared, which I thought was neat.  Toward the left end of the cooler, someone offered my former friend Jenna and I some sort of reddish Japanese cracker.  We each took one.  Jenna thanked him in Japanese.  I attempted to do the same, but French came out instead- I had to work a little harder to remember the Japanese.  Then I was sort of walking on my hands around to the other side of the cooler.  I was happy about the communal aspects of the living situation and was pleasantly surprised how well everyone was getting along.  I was pleased with the bright prospects of how things would go, and looked forward to a pleasant communal living situation in comparison to living in the dorms.  I went back to Jeremy's and my section of the cooler to continue looking for the dial.  I rummaged through the bottom shelf and found some of Jeremy's forgotten-about gorgonzola.  There were also lots of Cool Whip containers.  In the rummaging I found a sliding metal section.  Metal sides folded up to isolate one freezer section from the others, then this metal 'toaster oven door' sort of thing could be slid to certain areas.  This metal panel then heated up, and we decided this was a functional form of thawing the food, yet still a nuisance.  Someone commented about it would be nice of the neighborhood manager were there, he could help us take care of it.  My dad said there were so many different managers within the community it was confusing.  I was apparently the 'parole manager'.