It is night. D. and I are staying in the house I grew up in, although it is not my home anymore. We are waiting for a woman who used to live there. She seems incapable of being organized or showing up on time even though she knows people are waiting for her. D. and I have somewhere else to be but can't leave until the woman shows up. We hang around waiting for a long time.
While we wait, occasionally a helicopter flies low and hovers overhead, shining bright spotlights onto parts of the yard and house. D. wants to hide, saying "Heat-seeking!" I say they are not looking for us, but it is nevertheless alarming and I hide in a corner when the helicopter hovers above shining its light onto the lawn and field and partially into the windows, its erratic beams playing over us and revealing our movements for a few seconds before moving on.
Then I'm with Dr. M. and a group of his patients, in a place outdoors by a tall pile of dirt that looks like it's from recently-completed construction. Dr. M. gives us directions to a place with more answers. Another patient is discussing something of a technical nature which I don't understand.
Then I'm in a British car with right-hand drive, sitting on the left-hand side, in the front passenger seat. Dr. M. is driving. He is in the fast lane going very close to the edge of the roadway of a white steel bridge. It turns out to be the newly-completed section of the Bay Bridge, and there is no guard rail. There is no barrier to prevent us from going over the edge.
My thrill of crossing the new bridge for the first time turns to terror at being so close to the edge that I can feel the left-hand tires drift off the road and hear their inner sidewalls scrape the side of the roadway's edge. In his zeal to arrive at our destination, Dr. M. is driving crazily along without enough caution and does not take my fear seriously. His inability to see the road from my perspective endangers not just me but both of us, and he seems unable to be aware of this.
Then, coming back in a left-hand drive car, past the dirt pile from earlier, I see a gray fox jump 30' straight up from the median and pounce in a field beside the road. I ask Dr. M. if he saw that, and he says no in spite of the fact that it happened right in front of him. I despair because no one ever sees what I see even as it is happening.