Fire Chief Polka Party Pancakes

I dreamed I was in the new home of a friend from the gym. The place smelled a bit musty and the walls were dark green paisley, with designs curling into black. My friend's son, who is a world-class jiujiteiro, was flipping pancakes on one of those old stoves you find in homes from the early part of the 20th century. He was referring back to a recipe that was taped to the wall, and was actually written on the back of an LP sleeve. The LP was "Fire Chief Polka Party," a record that had been put out some years back by a fire chief I know from Illinois, who apparently had a side career as an eminent polka artist (note, not the case in real life). According to my friend's son, the recipe was fantastic.

Next to the stove was on old television, rabbit ears, the whole bit. My friend who owned the home was on the TV. It was on an ethnic station with programming from Eastern Europe, and my friend was doing a commercial for some type of nut (cashews or almonds, perhaps, or maybe some kind of mix). I couldn't understand what he was saying, because he was speaking the local language.

Another friend of ours from the gym then randomly strolled through the doors, and I slid to the ground and tried to sweep his legs with some outrageous move, but he managed to stay on his feet.