Only Plowing In Summer  I'm in a big house. It seems to be an old party-type house near Brimson, near Antique Avenue. I'm in a large empty room. A man comes in with a small brown rental refrigerator. The refrigerator is full, and I know it is stocked every Friday. I seem to be by myself. In the refrigerator are cans of Horses Hoof beer and Barqs Root Beer. I drink one and put the empty can on a shelf, which seems to be the second shelf from the bottom of a bookcase under the phone at the Whitman house. I think of drinking a lot more, but I want to see if anyone is around. I see a stairs to the basement, and close the door. I go from the door to the living room, to another room where there are stairs leading up. I go up the stairs and notice there are several people sitting on a couch that I didn't know were there. They were in the next room. When I get upstairs I'm with my friend Niles Zelling, who lives in the house. We're sitting on a bed. There are two couples there. We all talk. I let out a long, loud fart. Niles doesn't flinch when I do this. The men there are jock-types. There is a man there who asks us if we have anything to present. I want to tell him that I have several things to present; that I'm working on factors that effect dream recall in people, and anxiety and personality, and two other projects involving dreams. I see the parking lot of Large Company that is across from Bob's Sports Arena. There is a man with a snowplow. The man says he will only plow snow in the summer. Others and I tell him to work in the winter, and that there will be snow soon. He refuses to work in the winter, and will work only in the summer. I see him in his snowplow when he is in the parking lot. The plow is yellow or orange, and the orange plow holder is in the middle of the parking lot. The man is Chuck Walters, the new paleontology professor at Brimson. I ride with Chuck and one or two other people. We may be in my truck. There is a bag of groceries in the bed of the truck. I feel like there are other bags that I've forgotten. We drive south on Home Avenue in Oak Valley, through the railroad area towards the intersection of Home Avenue and 3rd Street. Someone comments on how everyone gets one of those, meaning, my friend Melanie McDyss, when they arrive in a foreign country. Everyone thinks Melanie is cute. We drive up near my home. I'm on a bicycle, with others. I drive under a plum tree, which may be my plum tree, and try to grab a plum. I go past my house, through my yard, and start to go down the alley. I stop and turn around, and go back to my house to get my mail and talk to my mom and my sisters Ramona and Heather. I park my bicycle near the back door. It is 4:00 or 5:00pm on a warm, sunny summer evening. I smell bacon cooking. I go in, and my mom is happy to see me. They are eating BLT's. I have $1,000 to pick up at home.