I'm a tourist in China. I'm staying in a backalley hostel area of an old part of town. Everything is lucky red. The double storied buildings have those roofs that are that iconic curving shape at the ends and are made with red tiles. The road is made of packed dirt. You know, like really stereotypical China. I'm trying to film a Kung Fu movie in the alley for some reason. I'm wearing a red type of kung-fu style suit, I have a friend who is helping me. I'm tied to a wheelchair on the roof I roll backwards off the roof and fall back first into the alley, kicking up the dusty streets. I get myself up, this friend of mine is there helping untie me from the wheelchair. All these Chinese people have gathered and are watching me with interest. They began laughing and pointing at my suit, I laugh with them and ask what is so funny. In black Chinese characters on my red kung fu suit is a saying. They point to it and I ask what it means, they say it says: "Why can't an apple be made out of an apple?". Apparently this was part of my Kung Fu movie idea. We are sitting in the street after with various backpackers and sharing jokes together. Later I meet a girl and we walk around. I point to some kind of large bronze communal pot in the street and say "How do I make a loop?" (not a soup, a loop apparently). She says "get it started and then other people add things." I say "like the oil and the spices, and a few ingredients?", she agrees. We walk along, for some reason collecting fallen leaves and making piles as we go. Later, I'm in an underground section and there are many strange things, very dingy dark corridors. A kind of tourist section, there is a food court. Instead of walking around thr busy mall, I jump over things and climb over tables and interior wall fixtures. I'm trying to get back to where I was before. I end up taking the longest route back through this series of dark very tight corridors that seem very dirty and all-around unhygenic. I make it back and the alley I was on in the beginning is long, and packed with people and tourist shops, I wander down towards the familiar alley I remember from the beginning at the bottom of the lane.

Somehow I'm dreaming of myself as a hard drug user. I am wandering around an old area of town with brick buildings, and I'm searching for hard drugs to use. I end up going to a community centre for drug addicts, like you would see in downtown Vancouver. There are many people who are presumably homeless/addicts around, minding themselves, playing board games, eating food. I talk to one of the nurses and end up breaking down crying, I ask for anything, like methadone, dilaudid (by the way, I've never used opiates extensively) I'm crying in front of everyone in this nurses lap, and they give me their sympathy. Next part of the dream, we are in a park, and discussing my treatment. The nurse hands me a prescription written for a medication called "Serafil".