It's gone to smoke and vivid chips.
It started with our small house. It was somewhere in that dreamspace map that I've lived in when I sleep.
The map compresses all of Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Washington, and northern California into a small, deeply folded space, and the mountains are taller and fiercer, volcanoes looming their threat.
The house was old, near an orchard, and one that I found in another dream years ago.
We had sold the house, and built another, further to the north, but it wasn't ready, or we were simply on vacation.
Brad and Linda had planned something, Barb was visiting, and some other friends that I cannot clearly recall, and we had two vehicles.
Penny and I woke in the hotel, and talked about how we were going to do all the things we needed to, and whether the heavy rains would ruin the trip by washing out the roads again.
We went downstairs and across through the covered way to the museum, and bought the pewter relief map. Penny showed me on the map where we were, and the woman at the museum showed us how to follow it. We explained the route to the others, that the road (so small on the map's scale as to be nearly invisible) went over the ridge between two peaks, rather than going into the rain forest below, where the flooding was so bad. There were cars outside in the parking lot, one-half story below, and two cars which were at the bottom of a subsided part of the lot, half-submerged; the curator told us that our cars were in the indoor lot, which was dry.
We were on the road, then, heading north. Linda and Penny had schemed something that made it necessary for us to visit four places on the way, to the destination which was north of Vancouver Canada, but inland, in the country beyond Canada, and we had three other states to cross (we were in Washington) before we'd get there.
I wasn't sure we could do it in a day, and Barb was skeptical as well, but Penny said we'd done it before.
So we started to the cars, and I was awakened by a cat. I had to write this before going to work or I'd forget about it.
I can still feel the threads of the dream in the back of my mind. We've gotten as far as the beach at noon, and we're halfway there, enjoying a brief lunch of sandwiches and tea? kool-ade? Possibly wine, Barb would have wine with hers.