I usually don’t remember my dreams, but when I do, they tend to be really odd.

Here’s a recap of this morning’s random neuron firings.

For some reason, I’m going to Bakersfield to see a person who may have been some kind of University-level instructor or counselor.  When I get to Bakersfield, I’m in a crowded downtown area, and having difficulty finding a place to park.  I finally locate a vacant spot, and end up having to walk a great distance to find the place I’m supposed to be.  When I locate the person I’ve supposedly made an appointment with, he says “that’s next week. I can’t see you know”.  We do this in the middle of a large public space, indoors, like a large entry pavilion area.  I follow him outside, still trying to figure out why he won’t see me, when some other man makes a comment about

the blanket I’m wrapped in.  It’s dragging on the ground behind me, and he disdainfully comments on how dirty it is.  I’m insulted, and tell him I’m skinny, and need the blanket to stay warm, and besides, it’s very clean!  He sniffs in that maddeningly dismissive way, and points to the end of the blanket, which has ended up in a puddle, and is dirty.

The scene shifts, and now I’m walking back towards the area where I parked my truck, sans blanket, but I can’t find it.  I’m wandering around a cramped and crowded city center, still apparently Bakersfield, trying to find my truck.  I grab the key fob, and try to press the alarm button to see where the sound might be coming from.  Nothing happens.  In my dream, I don’t seem to realize my truck doesn’t have an alarm, nor a key fob.  My car has that, but not the truck.  I continue to wander through the downtown, looking.  At one point, I’m taking a short cut through a loading dock, trying to avoid a group of 20 something men who seem to be taking a tour of some kind, and are pulling me along with them.  I manage to break free, and continue my search.

At some point, I jump over a cement retaining wall, and am suddenly in the country, and at a rather run-down facility with a large parking lot and a very old building.  It’s labeled “Sheriff’s Office Substation Bakersfield”.  Several vehicles come and go as I’m wandering the lot, and nobody contacts me to see what I’m doing there.  I’m now on my phone, trying to find the number for Bakersfield PD, to see if my truck was towed.

Years ago, I had a recurring dream that I was trying to reach 9-1-1 on a phone, and could not get through.  That dream stopped after I was finally hired, after ten years of trying to get a job as a dispatcher.  This time I’m having trouble finding the number to BPD, and it takes a while to get through.  When I finally do, I give my license plate number to the dispatcher, even phoneticing it so she gets it correct.  She tells me it’s code 30, which is not a valid response, and I assume she’s talking to someone on the radio.  The line goes dead.

As I’m trying to figure out what she meant, it dawns on me that she was probably telling me the truck had not been towed, leaving me to realize it must have been stolen.  Now I have to arrange transportation from the SubStation, and report the truck missing.

And then the my house phone rang, waking me. Now I’ll never know if I got my truck back!