There were dogs who were taught to help blind people, to guard them, really, protect them rather than be seeing eye dogs. Their brief was to protect blind people.

Some of these dogs were blind themselves, and they had a chip implanted in them that allowed them to continue to do their job even though they were blind. They people they were assigned to also had chips implanted.

My mother was one of the people who had a dog assigned to her--a small white dog something like a poodle. The dog growled at me when I bent down to touch my mother, and I laughed, and told the dog that it didn't need to protect her from me, that I wouldn't hurt her.

I was at the airport with Tracy, and we looked up in the sky and could see Apollo 13 passing overhead. It caused an effect like the Aurora Borealis, lots of moving colors and sparks and flashing things. I was completely, absolutely amazed, and stood there watching as it went by and was astounded by it. Just amazed.

There was a new operating system for a computer, and the OS was called Dixie. The advertising tag line was, "You're not just whistling Dixie."

I was driving down a highway that was flooded so badly that I worried that I'd either drown or my car would float off the road. I was terrified, then this calm voice of reason told me to climb out and sit on top of the car until the waters receded. So I climbed out the sunroof and sat on top of the car until the water went down enough that I could drive, and I thought, "What do I do now?" and the same voice of calm reason said, "Get back in and do it all over again."

So I climbed back down into the car--it was still running, I noticed I didn't have to turn the key--and drove off again, into the water--exactly the same situation, but this time, I knew what to do. And also, I was glad I hadn't bothered to wash my car before it started raining.

The background is that I'm worrying about my job again, and am fearful that I'm going to lose it through a layoff, just exactly the same thing that happened to me a little over a year ago--same kind of job, same kind of company, same kind of situation.

So, in trying to figure out what all this means, I know that vehicles generally represent yourself, so I guess I was the car and myself, moving through this overwhelming situation, not knowing what to do, panicking, afraid I'm going to drown, then my inner voice tells me that I've done it before, I can do it again.

A friend I told this dream to interpreted the part about not having washed the car by saying, "It also reminds you that you took this job knowing perfectly well that odds were you'd find yourself riding into floods again and therefore not worth cleaning the car for it. Not worth going out of your way to shine since the flood would come anyway."

And I left the car running. I love it when they actually make sense.

The cats were on the floor, and Dinah was licking her leg. I saw them again later, and Dinah was covered in blood--she was still licking it off. I called Bob over, and said, "That's too much blood for a little cat--there must be something really wrong, please look at her."

So he picked her up, but as he did, I looked over at the floor again, and saw another black cat. I said, "Do you have the right cat?" and he turned her around and showed me her bottom--and it was a male cat. It was Dinah's brother, Lee.

We decided he could live on the porch.

I was having a party for Joe and his wife, but as they were arriving, along with a couple of other people from work, I realized that I had forgotten to invite anyone else.

I started thinking of what to do--it was 6:00, so everyone had already left work, so I couldn't send emails to work, even if I could remember everyone's addresses. I was trying to figure out if there was someone I could call; I called the main number, and got a recording of Lad saying that this was the number for the Lee Team, and it was now March something.

I made a mental note to tell someone at work the next day that the recording needed to be updated.

I felt awful that I'd neglected to invite anyone to Joe's party.

My company was housed in a big house--there was a big living room, then a balcony-like area that contained bedrooms where employees could live if they wanted to. I decided to take a bedroom, and went up to pick one out. I felt like I had to choose quickly in case someone else got one before me, but I wanted to choose the right one.

The bedroom in the corner was already taken by--parents? owners?--don't know.

There was a nice room next to it, but it was painted red and purple, and it was too dark. I didn't know if we were allowed to repaint, or if I did, if it would hurt Cindi's feelings, because I knew she must have painted it. So I reluctantly passed that one up.

I don't remember the next one, but there was some reason I didn't choose it.

The one on the end was tiny, like a closet, and the larger one next to it didn't have a door--it was just open to the hallway--but it was a nicer room, and it had a skylight, so I decided to take that one. I figured maybe I would enjoy hearing people talk down in the living room, and if I wanted to have sex, I'd just have to go to the other person's (Bob's?) place.

There was a 2000 John Wayne calendar up on the wall, and also a poster-sized 2000 calendar that was also a whiteboard. I made a note that I needed to get two new calendars, and also a rug for in front of the bed. I had been given a new set of pink gingham sheets, and I knew I should probably change the bed, but I pulled back the cover to try to see if I really had to change the sheets--surely they'd been changed after the last person moved out.

There was some kind of bolster or doll or something inside the bed, but I knew I could take that out. The bed was a single bed, and there was an upholstered chair in the corner, and a dresser. And of course the skylight, which was dirty, so it didn't let in much light, but I thought I could probably clean it.

I was out riding around with a client and some of my team from work--the client was something of a crazy person, reminding me of Crocodile Dundee or something--he was driving an old Range Rover, and wearing a hat, and I said to something, "Usually our clients aren't as nutty as we are."

I had a doctor's appointment, and the doctor's office was on the third floor of a medical building. The elevator didn't go up to the third floor. There was one elevator that only went up to the second floor, and another one that skipped 2 and 3 and went right to the fourth floor. I was rushing around trying to figure out what to do, and it was late--it was nearly 3:30--but when I finally found the stairs, I didn't want to climb them, and continued trying to find an elevator.

My father had had called the police for something, and when they came--three or four uniformed policemen with their caps on--he couldn't get the door open and had to get some kind of tool to break the lock. They went upstairs and were there for such a long time, much longer than seemed necessary, I went up, and as I went up the stairs, they came down, carrying laundry baskets full of my old toys.

I screamed at them that they couldn't do that, they couldn't take my things, but they ignored me, so I went to my parents, and they said there wes nothing they could do.

When the policemen were gone, I went up to my room, and found that they had left a sheaf of papers with my old stories and drawings, and stories and drawings that other people had done for me, and while I was glad to find them, I briefly wondered if the policemen had done me a favor, if I shouldn't just go ahead and throw everything away, including the papers, too.