Lots of highway driving, broken glasses, and other personal imagry... We join the dream in progress....
A group of us were in a kind of inn, motel, or dormatory. One split story, lots of white sheetrock walls, ugly tile floors, and an air of dusty unuse. We had, I think, dream-transitioned from a church. The only person from real life whom I recongize in waking was Candee Cole.
At the terminus of the building was a large garage or machine shop.
It was a sun-filled day time, but the tone of the dream was "Crew of the Enterprise encounters disabling phenomenon which drives them a little crazy."
The air thickened menacingly -- the sunlight became hazy and pale. I think we got into some sort of argument about which rented video tape we were going to watch. I remember trying to lock folks into seperate rooms for their own good. And then the entire building began to time-sift (this was Bad).
About four of us, including a dream guy named Martin, were standing around outside the machine shop. Over the duration of about five seconds, a large semi-truck tire faded into existance. And another, and another, until a rectangular area where a semi-truck would be was defined. Martin did the classic red-shirt thing and stood there watching as a very large dump truck full of hay bales materialized. It dumped about forty bales on him and then dematerialized.
Surprizingly, Martin was relatively unhurt by the haybales, which had not dematerialized with the truck.
. . . and the dream continued . . .