I am on a date with this man. It's our first date. If we each pass the inspection test of the other, we may marry. He takes me to his apartment to show me (introduce me) to his things. It is important how I react to them. He has a huge warehouse-like room and furniture is in there like it was a store. I see ornate refurbished old-fashioned stoves (like I saw on TV) that cost 4 to 6 thousand dollars, lovely and well made (maybe 1920's style or earlier and some 1950's). There is lots of stuff. He looks at me, waiting and watching my reactions. I say, "May I look around?" He says, "Yes." This is all so serious. I look around and see a huge cupboard. I open it and see many loaves of bread, maybe 20 or more lined up on a bread board. I pull it out and look at the bread. I'm amazed there is so much. I make no comment. He is somewhat anxious, wondering how I'm feeling about all this. Do I feel accepting? Do I understand? I know now that he's the one and we will get married. I'm walking toward him to tell him so when a younger brother of his rushes in with the disturbing news that his mother is having an affair with Ethan. How inopportune. I must deal with this before I can marry this man. It is my duty to take the mother and Ethan aside and straighten them out (like a parent with teens). The man starts to go to the other room to wait this out, but I call him over and kiss him long and lovingly to let him know I've accepted him and everything is all right between us. He and I keep kissing because it's a wondrous feeling of connectedness, but we must part temporarily so I can take care of this interruption. He goes into another room. I follow the mother and Ethan into their living room. It is also huge and full of furniture, ritzy, very expensive stuff. I see Ethan seated, waiting to be chastised. The mother reminds me a bit of Thea. As I'm about to get the information, Ethan says, "I hope there won't be racial implications here." "What racial?" I ask, thinking he's stalling. I then remember he's Italian. "The Italian Stud" stereotype is what he's referring to. I hear a loud and annoying buzzing and realize it's my wheelchair battery recharger. I must plug it in. I say, "Wait a minute," and walk around with this long extension cord looking for a plug in. I finally find one tiny one on a wall and plug it in. The noise is so loud we have to shout. It's hard to hear. Ethan suggests we go to the other end of this huge room. I agree. As we are walking through the rich furnishings, I tell "Terence," a cousin or younger brother, to take the recharger out of the room and shut the double doors; maybe it will be quieter that way. He does. Ethan says something about Dwight. I say, "Who is Dwight?" He had meant his son and at first I thought he had meant my man. I now realize Ethan has had at least three wives. I find it amusing. I'll be related by marriage to Ethan. He'll be like a father-in-law. As we walk, the mother points out a coffee table made of giant clocks and says, "My watches, they are my watches." Ethan walks beside me, showing me snapshots that are very long for panoramic shots. He's showing me scenes from a production of his. I see a Venus de Milo type laying in an ocean. As he shows the snaps, a sort of story unfolds. A half human, half creature (sort of mermaid) is in the waters and comes near the shore to be able to kiss a pony who is on land. Meanwhile I see a naked Ethan with a hairy chest and back (like my father) in a huge vase/pot so he looks like a centaur. Now the snaps are of the pony lying on land at the water's edge and his inching along on his side trying to get into the water so they can kiss.