i was with my father in some small town, and i was telling a cop to bust into our car and trash it...i saw him later and he was still trying...
my father was going to burn down our home, i think it was our home, and he told me to go into the garage to get what i could carry away in my arms...i found old notebooks from my childhood, and drawings from my sister's childhood (many years younger than me), and i carried them away... a different cop was advising my dad to get away as fast as he could...
one of those notebooks contains the novel i wrote when i was 10... a hardy boys imitation...i have it still, in a storage space far from here, have not looked at it in many years...