I am walking up I-90 towards Snoqualmie Pass in snow. Traffic, mostly semi trucks, is moving only slightly faster than I am. I cross in front of one truck and suddenly turn back down the way I had come. After a possible gap in memory, I find myself in a room, probably a kitchen, with a large wood cook stove. Mom is in an adjacent room. After another possible gap in memory, I place an empty plastic yogurt container on the back of the stove and am concerned that it might melt but then realize that the stove is not hot.
Looking out the window I see the twisted wreckage of a semi truck and point out to the others. Someone asks if the driver was okay and I reply that I hope so but then I notice that the cab of the truck has been sheared off above the wheels. I am disturbed, and perhaps express to the others my fear that the driver did not make it.
The room I am in has become a waiting room with benches along the walls. David and Roger are with me. I open up my backpack/suitcase and put my pen on top of the clothing but I keep my ticket out, putting it in my pocket because I expect to need it shortly. We leave the room and as we go out the door, Roger pauses to mark off our numbers on a pad hanging by the door to indicate that we have left. At a checkpoint David walks right through and I am about to do likewise when I remember that I need to show the official my ticket. I think he takes my ticket, tears off a stub and gives it to me. I run diagonally down some wide outdoor steps after David and catch up to him at the boarding gate, an enclosed entryway from which we will board the ship. The official at the gate asks me something which I don't quite understand, but I think he is asking if I am bringing a car with me. Because I am not sure I return alone to the previous checkpoint to find out.