It was another really long, epic, rambling dream, most of which I don't remember, but my mom and I ended up at the church we used to go to, in the building that we used in the summer (smaller, cheaper to use, no Sunday school rooms. In the church's final days, however, we decided it was even cheaper to only use one building.). In the sermon, the pastor mentioned something about finding a song that has the words "here", "there", and "me" in the lyrics. My mom suggested Right Here, Right Now, but I dismissed that as too obvious a choice. I had my laptop with me for some reason, and as I typed "there" into the address bar in Google Chrome, it suggested other song titles, and the one I settled on was "Already There", along with another one with a weird long name that I can't remember.
Church was over and we started walking out. Right as we got to the door, I was reminded that it was raining outside. I shut down my computer and closed the lid, putting it on a nearby table to wait for it to finish turning off. I told my mom not to turn it off herself by flipping the switch on the side, that it would turn off by itself when it was ready, and that I was going to use the bathroom while I waited. Now, part of why this building was cheaper to run was that it didn't actually have a bathroom. It used to have a Port-a-Potty out back, so when I saw something that looked kind of like a Port-a-Potty inside in the vestibule, I figured that was probably it, though I also saw a door to something that might be a bathroom that I had a feeling might have been fixed. Suddenly, Frances, the nice old lady who plays the organ (or just the piano in this building) came out the door holding a tray of pee. It was a bathroom, but it didn't have a toilet. Still, it was better than nothing, so as she went outside to dump her pee, I went in, hoping there was another tray for me. Before I went inside, Sheila, the youth choir director and our resident quintessential church lady stereotype, handed me a glass bottle about 3/4-full with rainwater, saying "It's not much, but stirring really helps."
I didn't know what to do with the water as I walked in the bathroom, so I just poured it sparingly in places that seemed like they could use some water. The bathroom had suddenly become extremely long, with a row of sinks, all inoperable, and almost all of them with a dry, half-opened Cup Noodles in them. Above the sinks, instead of mirrors, were little plastic baskets holding 2-inch tall aluminum cans labeled as varying brands of "microbeer." Some of them were open, and I poured a little water in them too.
Eventually I ended up outside, out back behind the church building, with my dad. It wasn't raining anymore, and this definitely wasn't the way it actually looked behind there (it was actually, as was revealed to me a little later on, a modified version of the front lawn at my house). It was a mess. Large, solid, weirdly-shaped objects draped across the lawn; I didn't recognize them as things at all. They might have been cars or trees or whatever, but they were just piles of stuff. The power line from the nearby pole was tangled up in them, drooping down right on top of them and under some of them. Obviously not very safe. My dad started fixing stuff, and I, feeling useless, wandered away. I was saying things, and I wasn't sure if I was saying them in my head to myself or out loud to my mom who wasn't there, or maybe just practicing for when I did want to say them to someone. I said that I usually believe the first answer I give myself for questions, and gave as examples the way that having no neighbors inhibited my social life, why I feel like I'm letting my dad down, and how the reason I don't know myself is that I haven't made a self yet. I also said that in retaliation to impulsive answer-choosing, sometimes I'll act like I don't know an answer just because I don't like the answer I have. Suddenly, my dad started kicking picnic tables at me.
I stopped them with my foot; first a wooden one, then a kid-sized plastic Fisher Price one. He started taking the screws out of them with a claw hammer, and someone who was me and/or my brother helped. We came across a weird petrified baby version of my dad, wearing tight pants that his mom had picked out for him. There was something about Six Flags, and then I woke up.
