I am to go for a short journey to visit a woman near or past Dover or Vancouver. I ask if it is near the French border, near Paris. I sort through lots of stuff. Hank asks me what I'm going to do as he is ready to leave. I say, "I'll go to work for a few days and then I'll go visit her." He goes out to the car. I then decide to catch a ride with them. I look in the window. Every space is taken. Some older woman has put her plastic packages of clothes and stuff in the car; they hang from the back of the front seat. Four people sit in the back. Mateo is one of them, the closest by me. I say, "I'll sit here with the baby on my lap." I go in through the window, feet first. It's a tight fit. I ask Hank to unroll the window more. He does so grudgingly. The driver says, "Where to?" I say, "To the woman's house, but could we stop first and get my van and then I'll follow you up there? That way I'll have my own wheels for coming back." We agree. So we stop. I get out and go up on a fire escape balcony to get my stuff, bags of clothes. Some woman asks, "Should we wash all of them?" I say, "No. Just the ones she'll use." Then I sit, with a baby on my lap. I pick up baby clothes and pile them up. I see pillows and pick them up (square and flat). Each one has been embroidered by my Aunt Millie. I choose one with "Rats" on it to use to sit on for my "bums." The rest I toss one at a time behind my shoulders. Aunt Millie is standing there.