I’m with someone, I think it’s my mom. We’re in an old house; I recognize it as her house in the dream, but it’s not anywhere that my family has lived. The phone rings, and it’s RC, a member of the jazz program where I work. She tells me that she needs me to babysit from six PM until 2 AM for her little daughter. I explain that I can’t, I’m working on a big project. She tells me that it’s an emergency. We talk about it some more, and I tell her that I can do it, as long as I can bring my project with me – it’s a weaving project [which I’m working on in real life] and I can pay attention to her daughter while I’m working on it. Then, she starts asking me about my credentials, where I went to school, etc. It seems like a very intense interview, considering that she called me in the first place. She asks something that I can’t quite understand – I can’t hear what she’s saying – and she repeats it and I answer. Then, she asks if I went to Lalique – again, I ask her to repeat it – it’s apparently some kind of private school. I explain that I went to public school, and she scoffs, saying that my socialization must not be very good. I get annoyed with that comment, and hang up the phone. I explain to Mom why I hung up on the woman.
Then, RC shows up at the door. She’s carrying some piece of lumber – I don’t know why. She seems shocked that I hung up on her; I explain that she was being insulting, and she seems OK with the explanation. She still wants me to babysit. I get my stuff, and she drives me to her place in a neat old convertible – it’s an early sixties car, or possibly late fifties. There’s some confusion that I can’t remember about taking me to her house, and it seems like I’ll have to drive her car to get home – but I don’t remember that part well. I remember looking through a box on her dresser, trying to find a scarf. Then, we’re getting back into the car together – I see several cars that aren’t the right one, then we finally get in, RC and her daughter and I. I have some kind of spice in a little pouch, and I sprinkle it on the car, which can then fly. We rise high up into the air, and start zooming along. We see the area laid out below us almost like a map; we’re following the course of a bunch of big powerlines, because they cut a neat swath through the trees. We have to dodge the occasional powerline that crosses the wide clear space, and we go back and forth between trying to fly above them, or keep below them. It’s exhilirating and a little scary.
We get caught somehow. I don’t remember a wild flying-car chase, the next scene is us in a holding building. It’s like an old courthouse, and there are table displays of antique items. I don’t remember handcuffs or a cell, but there’s a definite feeling of confinement. Somehow, we slip out. It’s not a major jailbreak, it’s more like they’re busy doing administrative stuff, and we just walk to another room. I remember taking my pouch of flying spice, and sprinkling it on the artifacts on the tables, and chanting something – it was like, “Beautiful things, ancient things, remember when you had wings” in a sing-song voice. Everything starts rising up off the tables and dancing around. I go around and sprinkle furniture and all kinds of stuff, and eventually the old building itself, which starts to rise through the trees in a slow whirl. We get in the car and fly away, although I don’t remember where we’re going. The old people who run the courthouse are standing on the ground flummoxed, but it’s like a kinda-mean bad-guy in an After School special, with lots of comical shaking of fists and “I’ll get you” shouts.