I pulled up upon a plaza which I used to own and saw my sons vehicle, our office was still a part of the plaza, but we did not own the plaza anymore. The workers of the new owners were there, remodeling the exterior.
His vehicle was parked in front of our office and the door was wide open. Upon getting closer I realized that someone had been in his vehicle and forgot to shut the door. He was nowhere to be seen.
Last time I saw him, he had been in another vehicle and I wondered why. I had thought that he may have lost his vehicle and borrowed someone else’s.
I walked up to his vehicle and looked inside to see if it had been vandalized or to check to make sure nothing had been stolen. I saw all kinds of power tools, big and small. Some were very expensive and others were not.
They were not my sons. He had them in his vehicle, but they were not his. Heck, he was not even in possession of his vehicle. He was driving another one. I was trying to figure out what was going on.
I remembered where I had last seen these tools. We were at my brother’s house and he had borrowed them, some time ago. My brother never asked me about them, so I figured my son had returned them in good time.
It was good, I had pulled up when I did, because someone was definitely in his vehicle and I am sure I thwarted their attempts to steal what he had borrowed. It could have been the new owners of the plaza. Their workers were all around.
I took the tools out of my sons vehicle and brought all the tools into the office. He even had some in the trunk and glove compartment. I guess he was planning a big project. I began to look at all the power tools. Some of them were very powerful, advanced and very valuable. I focused in on one in specific and began to inspect this piece. It seemed like something was missing or it was not put together properly.
I had found a piece which looked like the top or the head. I placed it on top of the power tool and began to line up the bolt holes and oddly enough, the holes lines up. Just as I realized that I had found the piece which had been missing or improperly installed, my father walked in with a women and her daughter.
I did not know the women or her daughter. My father acknowledged my presence in his typical way; no words just a connection, like he knew me and I knew him.
While I was occupied on my project and getting ready to place the first bolt through the aligned holes, this women had walked over to me. She grabbed the head and took it away from me. My old man did not say anything, so I figured she had authority to pull it from me.
We had words, but I could not hear her. It was as though I was deaf. She was frustrated that I could not understand her, almost like she was mad at me. I kept pulling on my ears, because she was talking, but I co I do not uld not hear her.
She took the piece away from me, like I was some kind of child, walked over and presented it, to her daughter. I do not know if she was giving it to her. It seemed more like, she was letting her inspect the piece.
It was weird. It was like we all belonged to this office, but I did not now them. I had never seen them before and figured they were new to the fold.
Then I woke up.
It was another case, where I was with people, I was interacting with, but I could not fully understand what they were saying to me; like I could hear them, but not hear them.