From My Pineal Gland

There has been a death of some distant relative and I show up at some luxurious lodge for the wake. I press the doorbell and it both chimes and screams. An older woman in a long black dress, black hair, and sensible flat toed mid-heel shoes answers the door. She looks like someone who spent years as a Madame before turning the lodge into a legit business, a decision that put more strain on her than dodging the law ever did. She gives me a weak smile and leads me up a flight of stairs behind us. This isn't the way she normally shows me in. It's the service stairs as I can see pipes and ducts down crawl spaces off of the stairwell. The woman is limping as though her left foot has been injured. Something is wrong here. At the top of those stairs are three large men in black suits waiting to jump me. I can't see them, but I know they are there. So I make a break for it down the stairs. I glance back to see the woman smiling with relief. I jump out an open window into the parking lot. Trucks fill most of the stalls and I need to find the one a friend loaned me. Was it green or grey? I'm pretty sure it was a Dodge but the key in my hand has the embossed letters of GM on it. Screw it. I hop in a dark red Firebird and take off.

At some other point in the dream I give someone a five dollar bill to cover laundry expenses. In last night's I gave someone a five dollar bill for a haircut.