I've been at the Fair, it's a bright sunny day outside of town, and Jenny is driving us home - I think there's 1 or 2 other people with us (maybe 1 male, 1 female). We're going down a road near the freeway, eventually to meet up with it, but we run into a lot of construction vehicles. It's only the very beginning stages of something, but these large vehicles are over and around the roadway, the land all around has been flattened; but there are no Keep Out signs or barriers, so Jenny just drives straight on up. We're thinking maybe this isn't such a good idea, but the majority of them are moving off the pavement, you can see that it isn't busted up, there's no reason we can't drive on it - but is the end of the road clear, to the next street? I'm sure we're not supposed to be doing this, but as soon as the last vehicle moves out of the line of vision, we see the rest of the road is still ok, and Jenny drives on through. I'm looking at my arm (right forearm). There seems to be something written on it, but on the underside and I can't quite get a look at it yet. We did get our hands stamped at the door, but that was the left hand; now what's this? I remark this to the others, who look, and we finally see it's a map of the fair, colorful, with humorous stuff on it. It's actually a T-shirt transfer that I seem to have gotten stuck on my arm, presumably leaning over some of them. I'm back at home now - I live in a house with my father and stepmother (I'm still pretty young, maybe 18 or 20), and they're not home. I go out in the back yard, which is phenomenal - it's big, and all dug up like an excavation. There are mounds of red earth and little cliffs, and open pits. One of my friends comes to tell me there's a kitten out here in trouble - it's lost and found its way in here and can't get out. We find it - it's not in too good shape - and take care of it. Back in the house, I'm in the kitchen (right end of the house as you look from back to front) and going toward the den-living-room areas when I pass by a small room glassed in like a listening booth, and one of my friends is in there. He's telling me my parents are coming in, warning me not to go into the living room. (This is not a major thing, just information - what emotion there is is not a big fear, but it's as though I'm used to it. "Oh, yeah, right, you don't go in there if your parents are coming in, you stay out of the way.") I did see them come through the door, My stepmother in her big red wool coat with a head scarf and Dad looking like he used to. I just faded back to my bedroom (left side of the house). My room is sort of shadowy. The outside light is fading now, and the sky graying over too. There's a big long window with drapes here, over my dresser, on the front wall of the house, and I open the drapes to look at the view. There's all of downtown right smack in front of the window, all these tall buildings and skyscrapers. We seem now to be high up in the building, as if this is an apartment. As I watch, I see several flying cars, oh boy! Flying cars are quite new, and expensive of course, and you don't see so many of them. These must have been at the Renaissance Fair. They're all pretty big - one of them is a very substantial-looking station wagon and one's a Jaguar (white, not real big but not a D- or E-type either). I rush around to tell the others to go look at them, and they all go to other windows to see, and the sun's even broken through again, a lovely golden sunset on the rooftops and shiny buildings and the cars. Back in my room, the sun's gone in again, but the cars are still pretty neat. There's even a little San-Francisco-type cable car. They all look so grand, drifting easily through the sky. Now I'm outside, some of us are driving through town, still looking up at the flying cars, and there's a white bus or something off to my right, I can only see the top of it, though it's higher than we are - there are trees around it. I was thinking that's awfully big to fly, and then it becomes clear that it isn't, it's on the ground, just higher up on a hill. We get to another apartment, and we're there for a Training. Lloyd's here, this may be his place, and the trainees are here too, sitting in the living room. I talk to Lloyd for a bit - he sure is talking funny, very animated and enthusiastic, not like usual. I go into "my" bedroom. I'm not sure if I've just switched houses, or if I'm moving in here, but I do have my jewellery and other things here. They're not all organized, dumped on the bed, and things need to be sorted and put in the closet (just to the left of the bed - a real standard bed; in fact, both of these bedrooms are very motel-sort-of furnished, nondescript dressers and low metal-frame beds without headboards, dark industrial bedspreads, no ornaments). [I go back out and come in again for a rest; I mean to lie down on the bed.] Sherry is in here, with an older woman. They're chatting. Sherry says to me, "I don't know how you find anything with your stuff all scattered around like that - we just sorted all your jewellery for you and put it away." I say, "I was gonna do it soon, you know I've only just moved in here, and I haven't had time."