I saw many cars heading in a particular direction and thought that it was 'the way to go', but something about it didn't feel right. I stopped and asked some men at the roadside which route would lead me back to the main road. They pointed to a road that did not look like the one I had been on, but somehow it felt right, so I trusted them and took it.
It was all unfamiliar. At some point I got to a part of the road which overlooked rolling fields. There was a house below road level at the side of the road. I parked the truck across from it (next to a rustic bar which had a few cars parked outside and a few old men sitting around) and went into the house. My recollection of what happened inside is vague now, but it contained many women of different ages - some busy, some relaxing, but all in community.
At some point I went back out to the truck and it was not there. I looked around, wondering if I had parked it somewhere else and forgotten. It was nowhere to be seen and I was baffled that such a huge vehicle could just 'disappear'. Had it been stolen? I asked around and no-one who had seen me parking it earlier knew anything about it.
I returned to the house and opened the door to a room which, somehow, was now 'my bedroom'. It was filled with long tables - the kind you find in a small lecture hall or classroom. The room was full of women who were discussing film. One of them saw me peeping in and excitedly started going on about me as a great example, a film maker, a this, a that, talking about 'all the things she's doing' ... etc.
I closed the door and can't remember what happened after that.