Dream: our friend Anne and I are walking through her neighborhood on a summer evening. A tractor-trailer rig approaches from behind and starts to negotiate a tight corner at the end of her block, right in front of her house. In the process, Anne and I are forced off the road and are almost crushed. At some point in the maneuver, the rig needs to back up, and does so into Anne’s bedroom, where it barely fits. I enter to help navigate, but in doing so I end up almost being crushed. One of the drivers of the rig then informs me that they can’t get the vehicle out, so they want to cut a truck-shaped hole in the back wall so they can back it further. I suggest they get a smaller tractor (the front part of the rig with the engine), at which point I am in my own living room, where Abby informs me that the rig is Canadian, because they are ten percent larger there.
Key sources for this dream: the recent death of a young spelunker in Nutty Putty Cave in Utah, and the handy man who came to the house last night to look into cutting a new window in my bathroom.