I was leaving the bank, and all my stuff was in the receptionist's office near the front. my trumpet, disassembled completely, lay in dozens of pieces on a tarp on the floor. I grabbed a few bags and part of my mobility scooter and headed out the door.
next thing I knew I was in a car, driving across 4 lanes late at night into a parking lot across the street. I was going slowly, but I was drunk or otherwise groggy and couldn't press the brake. I woke up.
a lot of my dreams end up like this, dying. remember the opening sequence in Strange Days?
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