So I was talking to her, but it was loud, and she wasn't enunciating well because she had a retainer (she recently got braces off). Just couldn't understand her.
Then we got to our destination; some sort of Christian rock band was playing on about a four-story building's roof. It happened to be in Red Oak, Iowa. I skipped out on the show, saying "I know people here," since indeed, my Grandma Schenck lives in Red Oak.
But I walked a bit down the street, where my father Rich Schenck was picking up litter around his shop. (My dad is actually an attorney in Harlan, 60 miles north of Red Oak, but he grew up there, where his father, my now-deceased grandfather Carroll Schenck, was of course a shopkeeper of automobile parts.) My dad had me help him out for a while, then I left, citing my plan to "look for Chris Blair," a friend with whom I visited my grandmother's house in 1994 or so, when the both of us had a basketball tournament in Red Oak (Chris was impressively polite with my grandma, showing a side that school wasn't amenable to). Of course, Chris never actually lived in Red Oak.
Sources for this dream: Daniel and Liz invited me for going out during spring break, but I was gone. Liz used to have braces; Maggie, my aunt and uncle's daughter who was on the Salt Lake City trip with my family, has a reetainer that alters her enunciation to be more lispy. Salt Lake City, from where I recently got back from, has a more Christian feel than most places I spend time in. And the dream was a trip -- traveling was on my mind, apparently.
What this dream shows me is that the mind imprints the tiniest of unimportant details, files them in the deep recesses, and then combines them in novel ways in dreams, typically mixing deep desire and prosaic everyday reality:
"I had a dream about you."
"Was it sexual?"
"No, that was my conscious daydreaming."