Dreamed there was a parking lot people could go to tune and test their classic cars. I was out there in a very running 1968 Dodge Coronet 440, albeit with the same mis-matched, tri-color, bondo-gray. I was out there doing muscle-car power runs through the parking lot, feeling the acceleration and listening to the deep rumble of the engine as I powered up and down the parking lot.
I got out of the car wondering why the NOS wasn't kicking in. There was a beer keg handle on my pony tail, and pulling on that was supposed to fire the nitros into engine, but instead it was just burning the back of my neck, so something was wrong. I was suddenly walking in downtown New York City with the beer keg handle in my hands when I ran into Dr. Richard Penn and Blaine Robinson. I was explaining my predicament when Blaine said, "You forgot the batteries, didn't you?" I unfastened the keg handle attachment and slid out a battery tray, not unlike the sled that goes into my camera's battery grip, and sure enough the sled was empty - I remembering seeing it awhile back, not knowing what it was for and throwing it away, something I now regretted. However, if I used "AA" batteries, it looked like there was a functionality for inserting those in lieu of the sled, so I went into the adjacent corner convince store to get some batteries. "You might not want to go in there, its going to be dark soon," said Richard in an ominously warning tone. That was just silly, so I dismissed him and went through the door.
I was suddenly in a kitschy wine store - with all sorts of fun stuffed animals and puzzles and of course lots of wine. Wine toppers, wine holders, wine decanters, and lots of boxed puzzles. This was obviously not the store I needed to be in, and I was going to ask if they had any batteries but it was close to closing, there was only one clerk, and she was swamped with a glut of last minute shoppers so I left.
Sure enough, it was dark outside, I was completely lost, and also a single female. My family had moved into the city recently and we had a posh penthouse, but I had no idea where, and this did NOT look like the side of town I wanted to be on as a female, alone, at night. I began walking down the street. A man in a beat up car stopped in the middle of the street and looked at me. I tried to walk faster, but was aware I couldn't. I was more frustrated than frightened - WHY could I not walk faster? I moved my arms, I moved my legs, but couldn't understand the physics behind being unable to move faster in this stereotypical dream world. It was infuriating. Finally the man from the car reached me. He was disheveled and wearing dirty clothes. He showed me a gray loafer identical to one I own in real life. "Is this yours?" he asked. I assured him it was not. "I guess I'll keep looking," he replied and walked back to his car and drove off.
By this time I had nearly made it to the corner, but saw a group of guys eying me from a bench. I kept walking, hoping to turn the corner before they started following me when I realized I was on a roof top of one of the high-rise buildings, and the corner was the corner of the roof. There was nowhere to go but back. All I could figure is the street itself went downhill, and I'd inadvertantly headed straight (flat) across instead of going down, placing me in the predicament I currently found myself. I turned on my heel and walked back the way I came, making sure I did not make eye contact with the boys on the bench atop the roof. I had to jump across a fire escape, onto a window unit air conditioner, and atop a metal trash can before I got back to the sidewalk, not knowing how I was able to get to the roof by simply walking, but having to parkour down. That's when I remembered the view from the rooftop - I had seen what looked like the nice part of town just one block up, and one block over - presumably where my father's penthouse was! This was a relief and I headed that same direction from ground level, calling my little brother to let him know I was almost home.