I'm in a house, I think I've been renting and I'm moving out. It's old and weatherbeaten and the roof leaks. Right now that's the issue of the moment. I've found it's leaking in the bedroom corner again and some other places I hadn't known about. This is getting really desperate. I'm looking in a big closet, that I usually don't use, for something to catch leaks and find the wrong sorts of things. I have to come through the back of a very big room which is being used for a dress rehearsal of a musical show. The floor is filled with people dancing a routine in fancy dress. I'm in this show somehow. I'm being Robin Hood, which isn't just a part in a play. It seems to be a sort of SOCIETY FOR CREATIVE ANACHRONISM-role with a regular band of men to lead and all, sort of clubby. I'm taking it over from Bill (I don't know if it's permanent or not), and when I see him back outside of the room in another part of the house he says he'd meant to call a meeting of Little John and the others but hadn't had time. We get in a van by a side door; we're talking about somebody else and I mention some car models this guy and I built. When I go to pull them out to show Morgan I knock them on the front floor and exclaim something, but I'm not actually worried about it. The cars - three - are mainly intact. I pick them up and then scoop up some debris from the floor and take it into the kitchen (we're right at it) and throw it away. Back in the van I see bits and pieces on the floor that belong on the cars (and some that may not, like a teeny plastic toilet) and sort them out. Then I realize there's some other things missing and I must have put them in the trash. I go get them out. When I do, I pull out a spider web stuck on the end of the paper, with a fly dangling from it. I remark that there's one spider who doesn't waste any time, and scrape the web back in the bag. I find the pieces, little headlights and so on, and take them back to the van. Morgan goes off somewhere and I'm pondering what it means to be Robin Hood. I'm still dealing with leaks, though, and when I'm looking again somebody breaks in. [I'm not clear on this point - did they knock at the door and break in when I answered, or did they break in and find me first?] It's 2 men - one older, in a suit, short grey hair, executive-looking. The other is a younger, not-very-scruffy, henchman. They want something I don't have, I don't know what, and I'm really quite scared, but as we go down a big wide hall I somehow thwart them and get the gun away from them. I point it at them and they run away. I open it up to take the bullets out - I don't really know how and may not be doing it right, but at least some are out. It opens up lengthwise on hinges and seems to be padded inside like a jewellery box. I'm worried they may come back after it and hide it up high somewhere.
At some point I go through a room where a friend of mine is talking to her young daughter. [I think it must be Brenda, though I'm not sure, but only because I think the kid is Angela.] She's renting the place from me (remember, I'm moving out?) and the daughter is cleaning up this room. There's another room being built right next to this one, and she says that they'll (her husband and her) be sleeping in that one, even though it's smaller and not as nice, because the daughter wants this one, but she's going to have to get the hardwood floor in condition first. It's been left to itself and looks terrible, but it's very solid and well-made. She gets down to look at the width of the boards and seems to think that's a sign of a good wood floor, the newer ones use wider strips. I don't know.
Later I'm in a department store at the perfume counter. I'm looking in particular at one scent, noticing the bottle I'm holding has an extra name on it (like they do so often now - a standard name is used with a "surname" as though it's a version of the original. When I look at the rest of the packages I see they all have surnames, as if there was no plain one. I wonder if they're just out of the plain one, or they're not making it anymore, or am I mistaken and they never did make a plain one?) The saleslady is still talking to the other customer. I put my purse down and look at some other things. In a minute, I see what I think is my purse up on a shelf behind the counter and I wonder how it got there - did the saleslady put it up there? There hasn't been time, has there? I go down and look, but it isn't my purse at all. For a second I'm disoriented, thinking I've forgotten where I left it - but it's down at the end of the counter, right where I was standing.
I've gone out and I'm walking down a shopping-strip walk when I run (literally) into my brother. He's got a rather New Wave hairstyle. Vicki's with him. He says, you run into people like this a lot? And I say I was looking at the ground (which is true), and didn't see him. Vicki says, you remember you were supposed to be at our house on December 11? And you left too late, or something like that? I say, I think that was the time I thought I knew where I was going and found that I didn't - I stopped at Mom's for directions but she'd already left.