Dream: Camping Trip and Enchanted Swords

Me and a group of friends decide to go on a camping trip. The road is tricky and there are large puddles everywhere, enough to hinder the passage of our truck. The truck comfortably holds all fifteen to twenty of us. Eventually we get out to walk. We talk and laugh as we walk down the path. We’re getting close to our campsite and half of the group has crossed over a slow and low river using a rope bridge. as I step up it starts to rain and the river floods. The bridge is being skimmed by the rushing water underneath and I cannot tell which way the water is flowing in the turbulent waves. The last of my friends that have yet to cross as well decide that the bridge is too sketchy and start to swim across instead. I tell them that they are idiots and will be swept downstream and die but they’re unconcerned, 100% carefree. I start to cross, my legs shaking, my hands white-knuckled on the ropes. The water swells up and I hold on as it threatens to sweep me downstream. The bridge, which started out wide with healthy planks under my feet, is now narrow enough for me to grab both sides as I walk, skipping over the broken boards as I hurry across this death trap. I get to the other side and the weather lightens. Downstream I look for my friends, expecting to find nothing. Instead I get there just as they’re climbing up on shore, laughing at how easy it was. I’m amazed that they made it across at all. We keep walking to the campsite. Everyone busies setting up their gear and I wander off. I find myself in a cave where the air is acidic and there are pyres set up for light as I walk down into the darkness. I find a sword. It is huge, about eight feet long, but it weighs nothing in my hand and I swing it freely. The blade is a half foot wide and the edge is razor sharp. The whole blade is covered in mystic and foreign symbols, nothing that I can recognize; they look burnt into the blade, a dark charcoal colour against the shining metal. I’m walking out of the cave when a man with a sword much like mine takes a swing at me. I dodge back but fire leaps from the sword and I barely block it, falling backward into the dirt. The man stabs the pyre and his sword absorbs the fire. He tells me he wants the sword back as it is his, one of a pair. I might have given it back if he’d just asked but now I’m mad that he attacked me. He stabs the sword at me, letting loose a scorching attack. I parry it and absorb the blaze as I spin and lash out with my sword, catching him with his own fire. With this dark man down, I leave the cave with my new prize and wander back to my campsite.