Working in my dreams

We’re heading north on I-75 sometime on a cloudy Monday morning. We’re in a last-generation Grand Prix with some options I’ve never seen. Well, the outside is a Grand Prix. In the car is an uncle, an aunt and friend of the family. I’m somehow driving. The backseat is filled with a ton of clothes. I assume we’re going up north, but I am not sure why.

Next we’re in a truck. Similar situation. This is a sleeper cab. Freightliner or a Mack. Something that’s not quite new. Blue in color. We’re all in this truck together on top of a bed of clothes. And the friend of the family is naked on top of this heap of clothing. My aunt and uncle are in the front driving and are either okay with this or oblivious because no one says a thing. We’re not moving, though. We’re in a large garage, could be a repair shop.

Next I’m in a loft-style apartment. It almost looks like it could’ve been a warehouse with the shelves still installed. The one wall is the kitchen, very well lit. My aunt lives here. There are three people sitting on stools at the long, wooden counter. She’s trying to grab something from the cupboards near the fridge.

Next we’re outside. I’m leaving. It’s downtown Chicago, but it’s not. It’s raining and I’m on my bike. I need to balance this package I’m carrying and trying to get the bike unlocked. I finally take care of it, then take off. The package is heavy and awkward but I manage to go north — in front of the Hancock Building.

Then… I wake up.