dark chaos

I'm at the house I lived in while a teenager. My two brothers are there, somewhere in one of the dark rooms is our mother. I am sitting in my old bedroom looking out of the window that is directly above the front door to our house. The neighborhood, too, is dark. Suddenly there is noise-incredibly disruptive and seemingly violent or angry. A group of cars drive directly in front of our house, there are loud men inside the cars; they circle another car--my car in the dream--taunting as they zoom faster in tight circles around my car. I cower and hope they can't see in the dark window. I hear them calling me by my first and last name. I run from my room and look for my brothers. They seem unconcerned. I move from door to door and window to window securing the locks. I don't feel safe though.

A large maroon bus appears and it becomes the men's focus. Someone from my periphery alerts me that I am responsible to drive this bus--the passengers are waiting. I am given a ring of keys, but none of them seem to work in the various locks. I am handed a clipboard with a list of the passengers, but the last driver did not keep good records, nor did he notate who paid and who did not. I am weighted by my understanding that I have to straighten all of this out.

The scene shifts and I am sitting on grassy patch of ground with my mom. There are a few intimate strangers with us. They talk to us like they know us, but I don't recognize their faces or voices. We watch from our grassy post as my mom's three sisters parade down a quaint Main Street. The older sister has taken her two younger sisters shopping for their birthdays and is picking up purchases for their birthday celebration later that night. My mom is hurt--she says not only was she not included, but that the older sister had not ever took her out for her birthday. I feel bad for her. The strangers seem intrigued by this dynamic; they begin to dissect the behavior of the older sister and draw her in unattractive light.