I was in a small neighborhood bar with lots of wood paneling. There were more waitresses than customers. They were really chatty. I had to pee over and over. I opted to pee into a vending machine instead of using the bathroom for some reason. It was starting to drip. Finally my ride came & I left.

It looked like it might rain so we went down to the 4 unit apartment building downhill & down the street to close windows. I was with someone but I don't recall who it was. The reason we went, I guess, is that nobody lived in 3 of the units. They looked like a war had hit them. My companion went into the 4th unit occupied by Connie M. It was beautiful. It was done up in lavish 20's wallpaper, mural & tile. I expressed my unease at being in someone else' apartment. We closed he windows & went back to the other first floor apartment. A large black family wandered in. The mother & father thanked us for closing their windows. They lived in one of the upper units. I was embarrassed to ask which because both looked completely unloved in. I didn't know if they were really poor or really bad housekeepers.
As it turned out, the building was owned by my father who pulled up in a blue and white Chrysler New Yorker. He had me drive us to one of his warehouses so I could help with something. I told him I should not drive. He said it was fine. While an automatic, the car had a clutch pedal. The pedals were small & close together. I couldn't really get the brake pedal. Anyway we got around ok. The town was tight, dense with narrow hilly streets. At the warehouse I helped inventory supplies for war refugees. It was some weird shit but I forget what it was.