a glimpse inside my subconscious: or why you shouldn't eat sushi before bed

Several factors combined last night to give me one of the weirdest-ass dreams I've had in a long time:

1) the aforementioned sushi;
2) six trillion degree weather;
3) Levaquin (a high-power antibiotic); and
4) serious conversation right before bed

I started out on a tour bus to visit my sister in Boston. When I got there, I found out that we (my sister and I) had to move all the stuff out of my parents' house because they were moving. So we went upstairs (to my parents' house?) and started taking down the stuff. But halfway through it, I found out that I had to move out of my apartment in Brooklyn, too. So I freaked out, because there was no way I was going to fit all the stuff from my parents' attic AND my apartment into my Honda (which I haven't had for 6 years now).

Meanwhile, we're still pulling stuff from the attic when it starts to rain. And the rain tears down the awning covering the attic(?), so now we have to run to save everything from the rain. Scott (my brother in law) carried down the stuffed grizzly bear (which we really dont have) and I carried down the Teddy Ruxpin (which I always wanted but never got) and the next thing I know, we're all moving stuff naked. Me, my sister, and my dad. Scott seems to have stayed clothed, and in somewhat-true-to-life fashion, my mother wasn't involved in the project.

So I load what I can into my car, and the next thing I know, I'm driving away, but driving from the passenger's seat. It's not a British car. It's my Honda. But I'm still driving from the passenge'rs seat. And when I get pulled over, I'm sure it's because the cops are wondering why (not how, of course) I'm driving from the passenger's seat, and I'm sure it's illegal.

Turns out, it's not the cops. It's car-jackers. And they shove this device that looks like a palm pilot (with a very very sharp stylus) into my face, and the stylus has some sort of drug in it (probably Levaquin) so I can't scream or talk. But I try to call my sister on an old cellphone anyway, and all I can squeak out is a measly "help!" before I lose the power to speak all together.

Next thing I know, I'm looking at a rack of clothing hanging outside a bus in a parking lot. I'm trying to pick something to wear to work. I find this really cute dress, but it turns out it's not a dress, it's shorts. And I can't wear shorts to work. But I notice that there's only this little rubber cord that's keeping the legs sewn together, so I start to unravel it, in hopes that it will make an attractive dress. And the more I unravel, the more it turns into yarn. And I start balling it up, and end up wearing it like a brooch on my left shoulder.
And that's all I can remember.