201 | 050117

I had a new black car, and it was the first day of classes for the new semester at college. While driving there, it occurred to me that I had no idea when and where any of my classes were. Meanwhile, I was driving all the way to Chicago, so I had no time to turn back and look up my schedule at home. So I called home on my cell phone, but every time I was about to finish dialing, some of the digits would randomly change, and I kept attributing this to error of my own. To successfully dial was like some sort of riddle with logistics that were never consistent. I was already arriving in Chicago in the evening, still struggling to dial my home. I decided to pull over so I could dial with better concentration. I pulled over near what appeared to be a plain white brightly lit rectangular arena recessed into the ground, and there may have been a bunch of black guys playing basketball inside it. One of them walked up to my car and asked if I would move because I was apparently too close to their game, so I drove off. Soon, and without my noticing, my car turned into something small like a bicycle. I finally succeeded in dialing home on my cell phone. My brother answered. In a distressed tone of voice, I told him to sign on to my student account so he could look up and tell me my class schedule. The transmission was shoddy and I had to keep repeating and spelling out my password. All this time I was traversing down town Chicago, looking at all of the buildings, any one of which a potential location of any of my classes. Dawn seemed to be breaking already. Finally my brother managed to log in, and just when he was about to give me my schedule, the battery on my cell phone died. I still tried to redial home, hoping that I would have a few more precious seconds of contact, but my phone was now very flimsy and collapsible, very much like the plastic wrapping of push-up Popsicles. I had to get my fingers inside and behind the keypad so I could press them. This did not work, and it was already morning and sunny, so I gave up. Presently meandering through a sort of outdoor grocery shopping plaza, I somehow knew exactly how to get to Kelly's house from here, so I drove there [my car having returned to existence]. It was nothing like her house or neighborhood in reality. Some guy was mowing the lawn. My dad pulled into the driveway behind me, and told me that my new car had to get repainted to tan so it would match his. This enraged me.