I'm in yoga class - it's near the end, and the end of the day - dusk is falling and the lights aren't on. [The studio is the same except for a few modifications and some outside windows that aren't there in real life.] We're doing the posture where you sit on your feet and bring your knees up, but we're doing it for a long time. Or supposed to; I haven't got it straight yet and I'm not doing it right. George hasn't noticed for all this time and now it's time to stop. As we're all getting packed up to go, he calls 2 or 3 of us over to see if we can do it better with some props, blankets and things. I don't go first and I do something else (in another room off the studio that isn't there), and when I go back they're putting the things away, so I don't do it. Everybody else is leaving, but I'm hanging around with George, and we go out and downstairs together, talking. At the bottom of the stairs he looks out for his ride, and right away a car pulls into the parking lot, and he says goodbye and goes to it. I say goodbye and look for my own car, which I expect to be in one of the rows on the right side of the building (as you face the street) but I don't see it. I'm not positive just which spot it should be in, but I look up and down and don't see it at all, though there are several small white cars. I continue around to the back of the building, and a bit further, into an empty lot with a few trees and a little shack/house on it. As I come around that, I see an old black man talking to another man (white, I think) who's leaving, and the old man goes on into his shack. There's a kitten outside of it, black and white, I'm seeing it from a distance that I mostly see it as a silhouette, not a personality. It's playing, hard, and jumps up and down. It jumps high once and lands hard on its side, rather as though somebody had slammed it down. But it Dads up again, higher, and this time lands on its feet, slowly and gently. I go on around the building to the front again and find a group of 4 or 6 women under the stairs, one of whom is Susan. They've all come out looking for their cars, and haven't found them, just like me. (It's not one per person, actually, so it's not so many cars as all that.) They're trying to figure out what to do next. It's beginning to look as if they've been stolen. Seems like a foreign idea, but, well, what else could it be? (To tell the truth, we're all behaving as if this is so weird, it must be magic.) I walk back out in the parking lot again and turn around - then I realize I never parked over here at all - I parked in the front, where I usually do, near the bottom of the stairs, facing the building. I had been thinking I parked over here with some friends in the class, but I didn't. I walk back to the front, look, and there's my car, all right. I feel very foolish, but you got to admit it's funny.