back seat perspective

An unknown figure is driving me through the hills of Tuscany and beyond. As we crawl uphill I begin to witness life inside the little homes and along the narrow roads in the centers of these villages. I end up at an outside restaurant. Very busy. I think I am meeting someone, but really there is no one waiting. I am shy to eat a full course meal by myself. I sit at a table where a man's jacket is draped across the back of the opposite chair. I sit and assume an expectant gaze.

The scene changes and I come upon a group touring a dark, cavernous theater. There are folks sitting in one section of seats and adjacent to them there is a choir performing from their seats. I am standing against a wall with a small crowd of strangers. I am watching them watch the choir. I grow bored, or restless, so I begin singing at the top of my voice, nearly drowning out the choir.

Scene shift. I am at a zoo with some of my students. The usual "where is so-and-so?" repeatedly plays out as the girls wander around. I find myself with one child, TG, and she is captivated by a white, slim sheep(?), the animal's face is so slender it is nearly a sharp point. I stand beside TG, but don't offer the animal my hand. I stare into this animal's face and am frightened. It stares back quite intently, I keep envisioning its thin face and mouth errupting into large malice --- like one of those snakes so thin swallowing whole a rabbit. TG at one point ends up inside the fenced area with the animal, and down lower I can see a body of water where polar bears are bathing and relaxing. I am afraid now that the bears will attack her, but she is too far to hear me call her back --- and then a bear is suddenly on her trail: small child, a crying streak in my direction with an enormous white smear chasing closely behind.

The scene shifts again, and I am watching a dinner party unfold. My mother is sitting at the head of the table with one of her three sisters at either side. There are folks I don't recognize and then at the other end a man my mother once loved is seated. Everything is fine until I begin to hear my mother's sisters speaking ugly about her, I charge into the room and scold them, they cower at my presence.
I am then following a pair of adult sisters who are grown and sneaking off to a backyard to smoke cigarettes. They are reviewing their life histories and grow sad when they realize the loved ones who have gone. They grow hysterical and melancholy and curse their cigarettes, claiming that their hidden addiction had stolen multiple moments from their lost loved ones. After they vow to quit, I watch again as they trot to the backyard upon frozen white, white snow to light up yet again.