I've gone off in a car with my grandparents and a great-aunt for a Thanksgiving drive somewhere. The direction seems to be north, as though I still live in San Paulo. We're going to stop somewhere for Thanksgiving dinner. On the way we stop at a roadside "garage sale" where there's a lot of old furniture and things - it's actually Lurline's, she's finally decided to get rid of a lot of stuff she doesn't need - there are pieces I don't recognize - also an old doll or baby crib, very small - I suggest buying it to someone (Dan?) who's also there at the moment, because maybe someone you know will have a baby and it would make a nice present. There are also nice lace/linen collars and kitchen things - a white enamel affair on legs that's narrow and meant to fit in small places and the top sort of folds up - I thought at first it was for storage but now I don't know - "Dan" is quite thrilled with it, says his family used to have one. I'm looking at the price tags - they're small, oval white stick-ons, written by hand as you see often on antiques. Either the scene changes or we get back in the car and go to the next place, which is parked in front of Dad and my stepmothre's house in a small town. They have prospered since I last saw them, developing a large new family with grown kids, brothers and sisters, wealth, fame, power - big house, nice street, neighbors. [This may be the same place as Lurline's garage sale, just revised.] There seems to be a garage sale going on here, too - lots of people about - in fact, whole groups arrive and depart, maybe they even take tours or they're on one. Even the neighbors are all outside because, I guess, the holiday is a celebration and it's like one huge party. I'm looking at a lace collar that's on the ground on top of a paper or towel or something - it has a dark spot on it that I find is wetness, and it disappears rapidly if you get something under it to absorb, but gets wet again in another place quickly - the ground is wet. I'm by myself now, my grandparents and great-aunt have gone to look at something else, and I discover where we are - not sure how, maybe I heard somebody say, or I saw Dad or My stepmother on their way into the house, but I know and I'm horrified. I'm figuring that it would be a good idea to leave, but don't know if I can persuade the others. I look around for them and find they've started talking to these people and figure I'd better not interrupt lest it be discovered I'm here. They may not have spilled the beans. I find now I have to skulk. When I go to peek to see where the others went, I run into a young man member of the household who may want to know what I'm doing. What I do to respond involves brushing my teeth. (Maybe I asked him for the bathroom.) His room is in the right front part of the house and I continue across the house like a spy, trying not to be seen, until I come out the other side. I quickly go back around to the front and blend in with all the other people there. (The neighbors are out on their front porch.) The "garage sale" is coming to an end - crowds starting to thin out. I'm beginning to feel conspicuous, since everyone else will be gone and I'll be hanging around on the lawn. I lean behind a tree facing the street, fairly well hidden from the house, though there are people to my right, including one woman from the house who's watching everybody just sort of fondly, at the end of a nice family get-together. If she takes any notice of me she doesn't say anything. I stand there for a long, long time. I'm waiting for them to come and take me away from here and feeling abandoned. (Real familiar.) I'm sure they've forgotten I'm here. I can't go looking for them because the "family" will find out I'm here and ask me questions and talk about me and I still won't get to leave. I'm feeling devastated. As the hours go on I move from the tree to a (rocking?) chair on the porch, staring out toward the street, trying to be invisible. I realize they must have gone inside and been invited to have Thanksgiving dinner and not bothered about me. They either assume I can take care of myself or it's okay for me to sit outside and isolate myself. I'm telling myself what really happened, though, is they got in the car and drove off and don't know I'm not with them. They'll find out soon and come back for me. But it doesn't happen, and I sit there. Something strange happens to the scene I'm looking at - or I'm thinking about a movie I've seen - anyway, I see a gym with a bunch of Tom-Cruise-type boys in a movie scene that looks like one I've seen but isn't quite - then I become aware that I'm watching a trailer for the sequel. Something about a piece of equipment in this scene is of importance, has to do with me and somehow Linda. I (call her?) on the telephone - at least I've got a phone in my hand and I'm talking to her on it and we exchange the information, and she asks if I'm okay, or maybe it's can she do anything else for me? I've been thinking about how I could get home on my own now, it's been so long I don't know why I should wait here forever, and I'm getting real mopey. I ask her about that and start to tell her everything, when all of a sudden I hear people behind me coming outside - the sort of bustle you get when a group of people leave. I hear Bonnie's voice - she comes beside where she can see me and says "Oh, there you are! We've been wondering where you got off to." And asks a question that might have been, how come you disappeared like that? Or something, but she doesn't quite finish - turns her head back to the others and says, "oh, I know - I know you too well".
I'm absolutely horrified that it should be turning out this way. I mumble something to Linda and hang up. I wait for this new ordeal to be over.