I am taking a bus to and from work?  School?  I see a young very pregnant mother riding along with me.  Her toddler son is often with her but not always.  I know that, for myself, this ride is only temporary, that Rob is going to tell me that I have a car again.  My car, is apparently, in the shop.  When Rob does call to tell me this will be my last time taking the bus, I get off at my usual stop near the Kmart and tell the pregnant mother, whose name is Paige, that she is too pregnant to be walking home from the bus stop and that tomorrow I will meet her.  I try to find a business card, none of which are my own, on which I can write my cell phone number.  She is hesitant but eventually agrees to take the card.  The next day, however, I am at the bus stop and she is not there.  A lot of people are milling about, as if the bus should have arrived but is late.  One is a guy who begins preaching and I’m assuming he’s going to talk about fire and brimstone and all of us being damned to hell but he is actually preaching against false teachers and how they talk about God’s judgment instead of his love.  I wait as long as I can but eventually I give up on Paige arriving and I get into my car, which is larger than I am comfortable driving.  In fact, I realize that with the vertigo I probably shouldn’t be driving at all.  But I start the car and begin driving home. I mustn’t be paying attention to what I’m doing because, instead of driving home from the bus stop that was within walking distance of my car, I find myself on the onramp to the interstate, and it is isn’t even one I would normally take so I am definitely not paying attention.  I try to use the brake to slow down but it isn’t very effective and I begin to wonder if I have forgotten which pedal is the brake: the left or the right?  I am pressing hard on the right one.  The roads are so steeply inclined that I can see the spaghetti like paths coming up ahead and I realize that I am too dizzy to be driving when my car goes through the road barrier on the far side and I begin a slow flight across a deep fall below into water.  Everything has slowed down and I am looking over at the cars still on the road; none of the drivers are slowing down or looking at my car as I begin to feel the vehicle’s weight shift beneath me and I am practically floating for an instance as it begins a slow arcing descent.  “This is only a dream,” I say to myself and . . . I pull myself gently from the dream before the real fall and panic begin.