I'm awakened in my bedroom by a large articulated bus, like several cars of a light-rail train, in my back yard. It's trying to do some sort of multipoint turn back there, going backward and forward in the limited space, trying to get turned around and get somewhere. There are riders in the bus, looking somewhat helplessly through the windows. One woman seems to be beckoning me to help them.

I go outside around the front of the house, which unlike my real house, has a steep staircase down to a lower ground level. The woman meets me at the bottom of the stairs, and I tell her somewhat impatiently that even if I wanted to help them I couldn't, because it's impossible or something like that. She goes back to her bus.

Later I'm in my office, telling somebody the story, I think my brother Steve. As I'm recounting the tale, I see out on the street (as though I could see out my living room window) a public transport van carting people along the street. "That's it!", I exclaim, "there it goes now!" (though my memories of the two vehicles don't match at all).

We go out into the street and start following it. It goes up a hill through an unfamiliar neighborhood, across an intersection and out of sight.

Suddenly several fast cars come toward us across the intersection, one a Mustang like Dena's, and I think the public transport bus is involved somehow. It's as if the cars are angry at each other, not racing but fighting, and going too fast and carelessly. They scream past us, and we decide that we'd better turn around and go back the other way and see what is up.

Soon after, we reach the crest of a hill where we can see several blocks down into the neighborhood, and we see emergency vehicles down there. Something has happened with all those cars, and we continue walking in that direction to see what is going on.