Both my mother and father have died. I am crying and very sad. I have to find a black outfit to wear. I want to wear all black. I can't find any. I frantically dig through my mother's closet and find a few possibilities. Then I look in another room. Behind a chest of drawers that is blocking the doorway, I see my suitcase. I rifle through it, spreading my papers far and wide as I grab for a black and gold striped blouse. I put it on. It's sort of see-through and I can see my bra. I see it's a maternity/nursing bra, partially opened, revealing part of my breast. I can't figure out how to close the snaps. I take off that blouse and continue my frantic search. I say to myself, sobbing, "I don't want to be late; please, God, don't let me be late." I feel I'll miss the ceremony. Gritting my teeth, I am determined to choose the next clothes item I find. It's a flower print blouse. I put it on and run for the car. I see the hearse with it's 14-21 seats is gone (I had seen it earlier each seat was separate from each other so the mourners could have privacy). I get in the back seat of a beige-colored convertible and it starts going as I'm still trying to button my blouse. I get out and try to steer it by leaning it this way or that. It's light and goes back and forth easily.