(A night full of dreams due to not feeling well. Only the most recent is decently recalled.)
I am on my way to what I think is a guitar trade show. I drive down narrow streets until I recognize the hall where it is being held. I slow down in front of it and hear beeping behind me; there is a man in a van flipping me the bird and apparently cursing me, though I can't hear him. I speed back up and turn left into a nearby parking lot, noting that the guy passes me by and doesn't turn in behind me.
I walk in and recognize the place as a back hallway of an old local mall. There is a hall here; I used to go to stamp and coin shows held here as a child. As I approach doors, I see tables arranged to pay admission. The doors are closed. There is a large bulletin board showing all the events, and try as I might I cannot see a guitar trade show there.
I then notice the angry guy coming in the doors, staring right at me. I brace for whatever might come, but the guy just walks up to the table and says, "I'm in the band." They let him pass.
A fragment of a young boy trying desperately to pull up the bricks surrounding a pair of flower beds. There is something really important about him being able to accomplish this, but I'm not allowed to help him and so just watch.