Friday, July 13, 2012 - I awoke at 04:35am from this dream:

"...I can't believe that tomorrow all this will be gone! Shoot, in five more minutes all this will be gone!" I tell my sister as I snatch my hooded wool coat from the closet along with the purple Blarney wool scarf she brought me from Ireland.
"Your Bible?" she asks.
"Did you want my other Bible?" I reply. Apparently, I have the Bible I use most often already in safety. The Bible in the closet is an extra that I rarely use.
"No, it's okay. I didn't know if you saw it."

Moments before, she and I were stacking personal items (books, dishes, trinkets, clothes...) in the middle of the room with some other women. At least one of the women was foreign (ethnicity?). That woman was lamenting how she was going to miss everything. I picked up a souvenir spoon that was still in its plastic case and white shop bag. A receipt stuck out of the case. I held it up for someone to claim. "Not mine!" they all replied. I looked at the receipt and realized it was mine - from France. I put the spoon and bag with receipt in my shirt pocket and kept working, wondering if I was petty (?) for keeping the souvenir.

As we finished stacking everything... in a pile about four feet (1.5 metres) high and nearly as long as the large industrial room we are in... I said (to someone), "Do you want to help me gather up what's left and put it in bags?" There were clothes and/or fabric on the floor beyond the pile and some cloth bags we could use to stuff them in. I suddenly realized there were things left in the closet in front of me that I did not want to abandon (my coat, for one!). I went to the closet to recover them.

"I'm sorry! I just can't leave this!... I can't believe that tomorrow all this will be gone! Shoot, in five more minutes all this will be gone!" (gone = destroyed by fire)

My feelings are that I can take away anything I can carry. No other worries of where I'm going, staying, eating, etc. All basic needs are apparently met, but this place is about to be ablaze (by what cause???)

Mother leaves in haste; Spills cargo

So last night was a strange one! After dreaming about a man I have had a crush on for a long time and think of every day was sitting at my kitchen table sans shirt (and maybe just in his tighty-whiteys?) and flirting with me across the table. ... in case that wasn't strange enough... I had another dream...

I am apparently in Raleigh with some school friends, but I am preparing to go home to Graham. I am not 100% committed to driving back today, but I am getting my things together anyway. If I don't go today, I will drive tomorrow, but there may be someone expecting me to come back tonight (not the guy in the dream above, someone I care much less about). I could ride back with my mother, as she is taking some things over to my younger sister who also lives in the greater-Graham area. My father is loading boxes of stuff into the white van. Mom starts the van and calls out to me (over her shoulder) that she is "...leaving now and (my father) can ride with me or whatever." I answered that I was planning to ride with her, but she was already driving away. That's when I saw the back doors of the van were still open! I ran through the house to try and head her off before she got to the road, but I was too late! She was able to pull straight into the street, and making a left, the van nearly tipped over as all the cargo shifted and spilled out the back!
    Mom was so mad she got out of the van and stomped into the house. My older sister and I stared at the van and the spilled contents in the street. Just then, a truck (?) drove into the van breaking it into. We started to gather up the stuff in the road. A burgundy van drove through the wreckage (in the same direction as the first vehicle... from the right to the left) and incurred damage to the driver's side as it drove past the half of the van that was in the road, and kept going! I cursed at the burgundy van as it drove away.
     My father ran out and saw the mess, and turned back toward the house. "Hold it right there!" I shouted to him. "This is your second oldest daughter, Heidi, standing here! And this is your oldest daughter..." He had not asked what happened, or anything! In retrospect, he probably knew enough of the story when Mom stormed back into the house that no further explanation was necessary when he saw us picking up the pieces. I took a box of things into the house and let Mom know I was willing to take her to my sister's, and that she probably needed to pack an overnight bag. She agreed and went to gather her things.