The Little Blimp  I'm driving in a mountainous region to go mountain climbing with my friend Kevin Simpson. There is a man in a Subaru wagon that is going west, camping. He has a tent in his car. We go east and turn right onto the second road. A sign says it is five miles to the place where we want to go, which seems to be a place where fossils can be found, and also a small bakery. The sign is for the first right, and I wonder if I'm going the wrong way; if I've gone past the road. I drive fast down a gravel, windy, hilly road. Kevin is in the car behind me following. It's difficult to keep my car on the road because I go so fast. We arrive at a beach area. There are people painting on a wall. There is a preacher-like person there. This seems to be a religious-musical cult. The atmosphere seems to captivate or suck Kevin into it. People try to make us stay: to detain us. We throw fruit and fight, as they do. My former supervisor Ron Fontana is a leader-type man. People throw large tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, and berries. I hit Ron with one, and it knocks him back. He throws a green pepper-like fruit at me. I catch it. There is a large sand hill in this place, about 20 feet high, and a water hole that is like a miniature quarry, next to it. There is a key and a board near the water. It may be just above the water, hanging or hovering. I'm frantically trying to escape. I scurry up the sand hill and dive to get the key. I almost lose the key in the water because I have a poor grip on it. There is a very shaky wooden bridge running from the top of the sand hill to a place. This seems like an escape route. Kevin is there, in a blimp. The blimp is about three feet long, and dark in color. There are two teapots connected to the blimp. This is an escape. I grab onto the teapots and hang from the blimp as it rises. Another younger man wants to go too. I tell him to grab onto my foot. We rise, and I notice it seems like we are floating in my kitchen at home in Oak Valley. I think it will be tough to leave, if possible.