A dream.

I won't claim any of this makes sense. I rarely have dreams I remember so I thought I'd write this one down.

I am driving a nondescript truck with wooden racks on the bed to a place.
A helper sits on the passenger seat next to me. My helper is female and
someone I know well, resembling the only girlfriend I had during the time
the farm was in business. The place some sort of combination livestock
auction and renderer (place that deals with dead, down, and disabled
livestock.) I talk with the people there then take the cow I have hauled
there to a stall. The cow is never directly named but I recognize her as
Abby, the first cow I owned. The stalls are masonary with metal pipework across the
front - fancy construction but fairly standard tie- stall design. When I
do, the woman who works for the place who is guiding me asks if they are
selling or rendering her. I say selling, which I somehow know to be
contrary to my father's wish/demand. We walk away.

I'm in a Target and my helper is with me. It is diagonally adjacent to the
resale/rendering place - not across the street sort of adjacent but as if a
corner of its parking lot is the tie stall facility. It's midday but the
store is closing. I pick-up two small items and proceed to check-out. The
only available check-outs are the self-check stations. I have trouble
understanding how to use them - I can read the displays but the
instructions are less than clear. I end-up purchasing the items but also
causing the system to print out three other things, one of which is a
Rite-Aid prescription information sheet. I put them in the bag and walk to
the exit.

I'm back at the resale/rendering facility, but it is gradually turning
into a garden - literally. One by one the stalls disappear and as they do
the rows become ridges of a garden with plants already growing on them.
Only the end-most partitions remain, becoming retaining walls at the ends
of the rows, and they gradually transform into a more typical wall design.
There is a small, rough-hewn shed there looking quite weathered. There are
people in late Eighteenth Century Colonial US clothing, mostly women. One
carries out a flag pole bearing a 1606 Union Flag and sets it into a hole
in the ground and I'm aware that I do not have my visitor pass (this is the
convention of Colonial Williamsburg to indicate facilities that are open
that day.) I am now alone (that girlfriend and I never went to CW.) They
are doing a project for children to build some sort of small item from
weathered wood and hand-made nails. My mother arrives and we talk while
walking through the garden. The dream ends.