A tarantula was loose in the old Fisher Street address,
I trapped it under a coffee jar, then I went looking for some cardboard to slide it under the jar.
In the meantime, two of my cats decided to play with the spider, so trying to move them without releasing the spider was difficult.
Eventually, I checked it out the windows.
Next, my brother was apparently living here with his wife and kids (or at least he was until she bailed on him due to prolonged grumpiness due to a big toothache).
My house was very dark when I entered it. This was suss. I’d returned there after a guitar failure (I’d been giving a live performance and the bridge went wonky (it was very rusty)).
The house had been cleaned by assassins (2 of them) who had me on their hit list.
I was on the outside of a jumbo jet as it flew from Melbourne to Brisbane in Australia. Either I was the PM (or close to the PM). Some zero G moments, though by the end of the flight, I was used to the motions of the plane.
Something about a dripping top at one stage.
Landing was interesting as it seemed the jet needed to make a tight turn to enter an underground park, so the pilot needed to be quite exact due to a short runway.
A party of five was then bundled into red Mercedes limo and we wound up at the beach driving along a road. I was rear right of the car, not the rear left where I should have been.