A boy is upstairs. A man comes to the door. "I," a woman, answer the door. I'm tired, spent, anger, but just old and smoldering. The boy comes downstairs. I pick him up and take him back to his room. I "see" a fire starting on the blue curtains but don't see it. I turn and go downstairs. It spreads. Then I, the young man, am being run out of town. I've burned the house and my parents. I'm a bad person. The community won't talk to me. They just point as I walk by. An older woman is speaking to the priest. Incest (incensed) that he has given me the best room in a retreat. I see Swiss cottage motel rooms. He says, "Leave him alone. He's gone through enough," (as I wake up, I'm thinking, "he's a psychic, oh, I dreamed about a psychic," but I can't remember that part).