I wish I could remember all of it. Husband was in it and I guess he was here. So was T-Bone or someone who resembled him. I had a Buick. It wasn't a Regal, I think it was an old Skylark. It was cherry-classic.
Husband had his own car, even though it was painted like an advertisement for some kind of motor oil. They were driving the cars back from somewhere and I disputed they should have picked me up and allowed me to drive my own car home from where ever it was because I didn't want anyone driving my car. If my own mother wasn't driving my cars, nobody else should either. T-Bone apologized and threw me my keys. I had to leave. There was somewhere I was supposed to go. They left in the oil-mobile and I went back inside to get ready.
I ended up in Minneapolis. I was using my cane. I stopped to get something to eat and then saw one of the holier women that I know over at a table with other women. This friend of mine is a vegetarian and she was frying chicken.
I remembered I had not fed my cat. For a minute, I was struggling to balance my tray and walk over to their table. My friend wasn't looking up to see me and no one saw my dilemma. I decided I would probably not stay in the city overnight as I had planned. I had to go back and feed my cat.
I'm pretty sure this was entirely a psychologically induced dream. Signs of the times...
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