This could be humorous if you know the participants in this dream.
When I first entered the dream, I found myself at Professor Keuthan's house. He was planning to move, so he had several students there packing up his stuff. My job was to pack up all of his dress clothes. After I searched the small house for the clothes I finally discovered them in a closet in his living room. Knowing that everything had to be packed tightly, I began to fold his dress shirts into a nice compact cube.
This action did not seem to please Keuthan, for he ran at me screaming for me to not crease his nice shirts. Therefore I proceeded to drop all of his clothes and leave the house.
When I went outside I found that the moving vehicle was nothing but a small car and that this car was driven by my brother, who was with his wife. I went up to his window and asked him to where he was hauling Keuthan's stuff, and he told me they were headed to Utah. I decided to help the professor again because my brother was helping him. Somehow the other students and I managed to cram all of Keuthan's belongings into the small trunk of the small car.
Suddenly I found myself in the middle of a store. As I stood in the toy section, I witnessed a small boy being chased by toy airplanes and helicopters. After several minutes of this entertainment, I found myself further removed from the situation; I discovered that I was on a film set.
After the take was over and as the camera and lighting team were setting up for a new shot, I sat down on a ledge outside the studio. Then I saw Caitlin and a couple other girls I do not know well enter the studio, not even stopping to say 'hello.'
Then I found myself inside of a small car. I was in the backseat with three other people, and I was one of the two people in the middle. On my left was a weird guy and on my right sat a strange girl. I was so uncomfortable. What made it worse was when the girl next to me tried to stand up while we were still on the road. I wanted badly to escape.
I did escape when I awoke shortly after.
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