I'm at my old house on Miles Court. It's empty, and I'm walking around inside it, with a couple of other people, like we're just checking it out, looking around. As I'm stepping back outside, I comment to somebody who is with me, "Isn't that weird? The other people have already moved in, and probably redecorated and changed a bunch of things, and here we are walking around in it just like it was when I lived here. It's like going back in time."

Then I realize that my truck has been stolen. It was right here, parked out on the driveway or on the street, and now is completely missing.

I declare that we have three choices: walk home, stay here, or hire an Uber.