Mary and I are in our bedroom. She wakes up, gets out of bed, and I think we talk about her being sick. The layout of our house seems to be like the house I grew up in as a child. But our bedroom is on the ground floor, whereas that room was a living room in my parents' home. For some reason I go into the kitchen to check on the soup which is cooking in a huge canteen on the top of the stove. I think I said something to Mary about bringing her a bowl of soup -- that it will help her. I look into the canteen and see a thick vegetable soup. Some of the vegetables are clinging to the inner side of the pot. I stir the soup so vigorously that all of its thickness disappears and it becomes a clear broth.