Dream Journal
Damon and I were standing talking in Melissa’s room waiting for the bus to come. It was scheduled to stop at 5pm; we would board it and take our road trip. The bus pulls up to the house early, but Damon says that bus will wait until its scheduled time. I am worried about the bus’s early arrival because we still need to pack for the trip. I lean out Melissa’s window and see an old silver greyhound bus covered in frost out in the parking lot. As I watch, the bus is leaving even though the clock says 3.15p. We missed our bus, and I am very worried because I don’t know how we are going to go on our trip now.
I am with a group of people at the grocery store. I walk over to the makeup aisle just to look. There are a few girls from my high school also looking at the makeup. I decide to purchase a miniature lipstick and a pat of eye shadow. Walking to the counter, I grip the makeup in such a way that the tip of the lipstick breaks off. I consider putting it back and getting another, but instead I keep walking towards the checkout counter.
At the checkout, my two small purchases come to just over 50 cents. Rummaging through my purse, I pull out two pieces of very expensive, individually wrapped, chocolates. I do a quick calculation and determine the larger of the two chocolates is worth at least 50 cents, probably more. I place both chocolates on the conveyor belt as my payment. The male clerk looks at the chocolates, fingers them, and looks back at me inquisitively.
While he is deciding whether or not to take my chocolate payment, I look up and see two girls from high school, Briar and Nadia, checking out at a different counter. Their clerk was faster then mine, so they got out of the store quicker.
Out in the parking lot, I don’t know where the car is. I see the van that is part of the trip caravan, but I am not riding in the van. Finally at the other end of the parking lot, I see the truck that is my ride. Connie (a lady from homer) is in the driver’s seat - it is her truck - and Damon is standing beside the passenger’s door.
I walk over to the truck and stand talking with Damon, waiting for the rest of the group to come out of the store. Another truck drives up and parks next to the one by which we stand. The driver has very frizzy hair and also looks like Connie, but she turns out to be Melissa. She gets out of her truck with a large dog and says something about bringing the dog along. Damon wants to say no, but I point out that we have a special doggy-motorcycle-compartment-thing that rides next to the truck. I don’t see any reason why the dog can’t ride in there.