I had got my vacation money (not sure if other countries have this, but in Norway we get a little more than 1 month's pay without tax deduction in the summer) and went to the shop and looked around. This was the first time I was buying a TV (in real life I hate them) but I tried not to act like a virgin. I found an advanced TV set with a video player and a remote control, which the guy in the shop demonstrated for me. Except when I tried it, right there in the shop, there was something wrong with the remote. It was very slow to react when I pressed a key I had not pressed one of the last two times. I told the shop guy, who told another shop guy, and they told me this was the only set they had in and I would have to wait two weeks now.
There was a small farm near the new church, and it was run by a guy I knew (in the dream only) of a rather pragmatic morality. He had started a chicken head feather farm. Chickens were buried in the soil in a long row, so that only their heads and necks were above ground. They looked like vegetables, planted in a long row. As I looked, a tractor with a harvesting machine ran past the row and ripped the feathers off each as it passed. I was told that later, when they were fully grown, another type of harvester would run along the row, pull them out of the ground by the head and kill them for meat. At the nearest end of the row, I saw a local member of a conservative church had pulled one chicken out of the ground and studied it before putting it back down.
Church of lightning:
I went into the nearby church. It was new and modern, but large and grand, clearly built to impress. I walked a broad staircase leading up to the upper galleries; the only artificial light inside came from blue finger-thick tubes that ran on the floor along the walls; through these pulsed sudden and intense blue light, like lightning. It died down completely before the next pulse came. As I started to walk upward, I heard a great, deep sound, like an enormous voice reverbating above and around me, but I could not make out the words. I turned and hurried out of the church.
Girl with immune deficiency:
I went to the neighbors and rang the bell. I was nervous and uncomfortable. I felt totally dumb calling on her out of the blue like this, with no appointment. Someone opened, but of course it was another member of the family. I would ask for the girl I knew, but I could not for the life of me remember her name. I took a step back and there was her name (and the rest of the family) on a small plaque beside the door bell. But before I got to speak it, she showed up and smiled at me and asked me in. She was like 12 or 13 years old, still looking much like a child, in part because she was so skinny. She told me happily that her white blood cell count was up to (number). I knew this was still well below normal, but at least it was a step in the right direction, so I chose not to tell her how low it really was. Perhaps she knew, perhaps she was better off not knowing. She took me to where she had rolled out a long long map: She was planning a trip east, first stop in Sweden, then to several Russian cities ending in east Sibir. She implicated that she might want me to go with them, even thought the three others (two girls and a boy) were more like her own age. I doubted they would ever actually do it: It would be quite expensive, none of them spoke Russian, and their parents would hardly want a small group of barely pubescent girls and boy to go on such an adventure. But again, I did not voice my misgivings.
Then I woke up.