I dreamed I was at Bob and Hannelore Orricks's place in Paradise. It was a different location, slightly up the hill from their place on Bennett Road. I had borrowed their Truck to go check on a septic lid that someone had taken off and forgotten to put back. I went to replace the lid, but as I went to pick it up, I found myself staring at a nest of wasps attached to its underside. They immediately started swarming, and I panicked, running down the street and leaving the truck with the keys in it.

I got to the Orrick's house and told them about my encounter with the wasps. Remembering that I'd just abandoned their truck, I glanced up the street to make sure it was still there. It was not. I told Bob that I was pretty sure his truck had been stolen, but perhaps someone had just moved it, since it had been parked out in the middle of the street. 

"I'm sure you left the keys in it," Hannelore said flatly.

"We'll go look for it," said Bob, in his usual calm, methodical manner. 

When we were certain that the wasps had vacated, we went back to replace the septic lid. Afterwards, we looked around the neighborhood for the truck, even expanding our search to some local tow yards before deciding that it had indeed been stolen. The day wore on, and we never did find the truck.

That night, I stayed with them in their spacious, two story log house.  It was raining, and the roof leaked in so many places that the entire floor was wet despite the many pots and bowls they had distributed throughout the place. They gave me the room in the attic, which turned out to be the only dry space in the house.

Although it was late, and the weather was inclement, I still wanted to go out. I had a clandestine sexual encounter in mind, a kind of temptation that occurs to me from time to time. I looked through some random personal ads in a sleazy newspaper, and found some possibilities, but the fear of getting caught by my Seventh Day Adventist hosts prevented me from acting.

On another day, I was in a warehouse of specialized oddball auto electronics, browsing the shelves. I found an old control module wrapped in paper. It was for some unique exotic car of which only a few models had been produced. I'd been pimping side jobs for my ex-co worker David, and this part seemed like it would be something useful to his enterprise. I put the part back on the shelf and made a mental note to come back for it later. 

Skipping around in time and space, I found myself with Gracie, in a house that contained some of Bill's old nasty porn newspapers. I tried to distract Gracie while I hid them down my shirt. God help me, I was still thinking of that tempting encounter idea. 

Jumping again without segue, I found myself helping Teddy from Snowfall do some unauthorized house sitting/cleaning for a friend of his. We had been rummaging through the guy's possessions and were barely finished cleaning up after ourselves when the homeowner returned early, nearly catching us. He did not notice any of this, however. He was just unhappy that we couldn't stay and meet the family as Teddy had promised.

From there I went to David's garage, where I found him working on a classic mini car. It was a perfectly restored Morris Minor, and it just needed the control module that I'd seen earlier. I'd set the job up for David, and he'd agreed to take 10% of the profits from the job as his cut. Apparently, though, he'd renegotiated with the client directly and was now going to get 50%, leaving no finder fee for me. This didn't make me too happy, but what was I going to do? 

I woke up with too many things on my plate for the day to really make sense of any of this or to write down any but the briefest of notes, which I filled in later. It still has no real sense or purpose, and I don't expect that it really needs any. I am just keeping a record of my impressions for later use, should I find the need to psychoanalyze myself. My real day was probably more interesting, but I'm saving that kind of journal writing for another time.