I am on a camping trip. We are gathering some firewood, bringing it back to camp. I seem to be part of a Boy Scout troop. I wander off a side path that leads toward a redwood, and this completely changes the dream. I am beside a bay of the sea. The bay has partially flooded this slum area of the city. As I watch, a large, brown whale swims in right beside the old, deserted slum houses. Then I float around this bay on an air mattress. The water gets rough at several places, and I almost fall off the mattress. I worry about being swept too far out to sea, or out to where the whales are, but it doesn't happen. The slum buildings are no longer deserted, but are lived in by slum dwellers, who are controlled to a great extent by a crooked politician-gangster. I seem to be a doctor, now, who is also doing a little surreptitious investigation of the whole setup. I, and a companion I don't remember, were looking around the area, but trying to be inconspicuous. Somehow we are arrested and jailed in this old building where I perform some sort of medical duties on a sick man. I get out somehow, but almost get lost getting out of the building, for it has many doors and it is confusing. Now the crooked politician has one of his strong-arm boys watching me, as well as eavesdropping occasionally himself. I am talking to a secretary (who seems to be Arlene Morgel) who works there in the area, perhaps for him. I pretend to be a reporter, just collecting human interest material on the boss. I ask about how he perhaps came up from a poor, slum background to be a successful leader, etc., etc., to impress the boss who may be listening. I think the secretary knows I am faking all this too. The boss's name is Mr. Bowpas, or Baupas. I woke up at this point and made some notes. Then fell back to sleep and dreamed a completion. The secret, illegal way in which Mr. Bowpas was making his money was by manufacturing and selling ice cream (strawberry) in a factory that was hidden under the water of the bay. I pictured a big cask under the bay when I thought of the factory. The dream now takes a more international turn, as if this were a small country instead of just a slum ward, and I dream that the new prime minister is revealing this illegal activity and not letting it go on, although he could have taken it over for himself, as many politicians in the past had done.