PIECES OF THE PUZZLE...

In this dream I drove over to a meditation session in Beverly Hills--though why, I can't imagine. I had a terrible sit--they say there are no bad sits, but this one was terrible, believe me. And afterwards the people in charge made it clear they wanted us to leave as soon as possible so that they could lock up and go home themselves.

It was then I realized that a few jigsaw puzzle pieces had fallen out of my coat pocket and I started to pick them up. They were recognizable as pieces from the (very difficult) Van Gogh "Iris" puzzle that I'm actually working on at the moment, while my family are here. The more I picked up and stuffed into my coat pockets, the more I realized that there were. The woman responsible for clearing out our area of the meditation hall--it was more like an old-fashioned theater--was clearly getting impatient, and was not shy about letting it be known. I asked her if she would help by finding me a bag, because my pockets were now full of puzzle pieces; even a paper supermarket bag would do, I told her as she huffed off to find one.

By now the piles of jigsaw puzzle pieces had turned into small mountains. The more I managed to shovel into piles, the more there seemed to be. My search was complicated by a huge duvet which covered many of them, and by the dismaying appearance of pieces that were clearly from other puzzles. How was I ever to sort them all out?

I must have done, somehow, because I was finally able to leave the meditation hall and went out into the darkness to find my car in the parking lot. It was not where I had left it. I used my clicker as I searched, to see if I could hear the responding beep but, when I heard it, I found only the garage door remote hung up in a nearby tree. Curious, because I never use it, preferring the remote button on the visor of my rear view mirror.

But the car itself was gone. It must have been stolen, I concluded. I had neglected to bring my cell phone, and thought to ask a couple passing by if they could lend me theirs so that I could call the Beverly Hills police. I hated to think of all the hassle I would now have to face, and thought that I'd have to somehow call an Uber to get home. But these people were reluctant to lend me theirs, telling me that I was not the first person to have asked...

At which point, my dream was interrupted. I was relieved to wake and realize that my car was still parked outside my house.