I'm in a department store. It's big and probably being remodelled, things are not where they should be and it's very unfinished-looking. They're having a huge sale and I'm aiming at some fur coats they're announcing, 50 only, something like $500. I'm not moving very well, I'm stiff and like it used to be with my legs. I have an ice cream cone or a dish or something, it's chocolate, partially melted. A couple comes up behind me and wants past. I'm in a place where I can't just dodge them, so I go on forward, but they jostle past me anyway. They don't push me over but since I can't get my footing quick enough I fall over, my stuff spills - I had other things to carry, too. I feel anger, suddenly, and outrage, and I want to punish the guy. (It was his voice I heard as they pushed by me, and he certainly didn't care about seeing what happened to me.) I want to push the ice cream into his face. I lie there for a minute, seething, then I get up with difficulty, scoop up some of the ice cream, and go after him. It takes a bit, but I find him, I think. He's sitting somewhere, maybe like at tables, or some seats lined up inside a walled-off area (waist-high, you can lean over it). He's in front of another man and they face the wall. This is maybe in a sporting-goods section. Dead-end part of the store. I'm not 100% certain he's the same guy, but I think he is. Got a beard and short hair - my age or a bit younger, slender. I confront him and the conversation is odd. He obviously doesn't think there's anything wrong and won't answer me, but the guy in back does. At least I think he does. Then I think it's my guy but he's not moving his lips, or I don't see him do it. I'm aware that it might be the wrong guy but by now I'm so worked up I no longer care. I grab him, rub my handful of ice cream in his face and leave. I'm afraid he'll follow me, so I move fast. When I know he can't see me I run a few feet, then slow down and walk, then dodge over an aisle or round something, speed up, slow down. Still aiming for the fur coats. I didn't get one but, leaving, I'm going down Hillcrest with somebody and we stop and visit with a large blonde guy who, when he hears of my infirmity, offers to work on me some. Massage, maybe, or something more exotic, I don't know. Another time I'm at my mother's. I'm putting something back into a container - been out for a while and I thought this was supposed to be cold but it's not now. There are cookie-things lined up in a tray - they look loose but they're stuck together with something, I thought ice cream and it would be melted but it's not, it's marshmallow. I want one but I know it'd show and I expect she's got them counted and it would throw things off.