Money to burn

There is a pile of stuff sitting by the curb on wet grass. Has it been raining? Is the stuff trash or the belongings of a person that has been evicted? I start to go through it and realize it is debris from a house fire. I begin finding valuable junk. A black man hovers nearby and starts going through the pile. I try to work a deal with him to guard the stuff while I go get my car to load it up. I promise to spilt everything with him. I know he has no reason to trust me and that he’ll probably just grab what he can and take off. So there would be plenty of junk left for me. Then I turn over a board or a thick stack of paper. Underneath I discover a wet, muddy, blackened soaked pile of money. I hurriedly grab the pile, scooped up pieces of random wet paper with it. I gather the pile to my chest trying to cover the money. I keep talking to the man as I struggle to gather up the money, keep him from seeing what I am doing and digging through the debris looking for more cash. I grow more frantic and clutch the arm-load of filthy paper to my chest.