John owned this really great house. It was a wooden house with wooden interior painted red on the outside. It wasn't a huge house, but it had a nice sized porch that wrapped around the house a bit and was far off the ground. The house was two stories and the lower part was a little apartment that John rented out on occasion, but it hadn't been rented for a few months now. Everyone loved his house and would come by most everyday to hang out there, drink a few beers, and ride around the rolly tree filled land that stretched behind his house.
In this dream John's brother was very sick and John was very upset about the whole thing. I said something to try and make him feel better, but we ended up in a wild fight. It was more than just yelling and saying mean things; this fight was like a good sword fight you might see in a movie. We were punching and kicking each other all through his house. The fight moved out to the porch where I threw a hammock at him. He ducked and threw a pot at me. While it was horrible that we were fighting, this fight seemed more like a comedy routine. Watching it was just rather humorous. A passerby glancing in our direction would've just thought, "Oh that silly couple."
The dream switched to John out of town and I watching his house for him. A few guys and I were watching Carolina basketball when the house caught on fire. This too played out like a comedy routine, much like the infamous George Costanza scene where he flails his arms in the air yelling fire while pushing the old women and children out of the way. We all got out of the house and I was trying to call John, but I couldn't get in touch with him. He soon pulled up in a taxi and helped me put out the flames. We started remodeling the house together. That too seemed like a comedy. And that was all I remember.
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