I was with Rae, helping a work colleague of mine to move a table. A big dinner table, which for some reason was located in a market in a formerly disused railway goods shed somewhere near Flinders Street. The table needed to be moved to a furniture polishing shop elsewhere in the Melbourne CBD, and for some reason it had to be moved by hand.
A fourth person was “helping” — someone I vaguely know from a friend’s moving day last year, who was observed at the time not to be putting quite as much effort as the rest of us. In this dream she was there, but not helping at all. It wasn’t working, we couldn’t carry the table without the fourth side being held up.
My colleague decided to go get her Range Rover (in real life she doesn’t have one) … not to move the table, but so she could bring in more help. The extra people were my two sons, and a couple of guys I know who are very tall — one I’ve known since primary school, and the other I worked with about 10 years ago.
We couldn’t initially figure out how to fit us all into the Range Rover, and some considered catching a number 50 tram from North Melbourne to get there. But then it was pointed out there were extra seats in the back tray we could use. And off we went to shift the table.
(For those who came in late, I don’t often remember my dreams, so I frequently blog them when I do. Lots of whacked out ideas in this one, but possible influences include: observing Adrian showing my kids how the pop-down seats in his stationwagon work yesterday… talk of a table lent to my sister… passing the Docklands, with its now partially demolished, partially still standing looooooong former railway goods shed.)