I was in the car with my parents, and we were driving by what I recognized as Mount Rainier. It was much smaller, though, and I could see a path leading up the side of it with people climbing. It was sunny outside, but the summit of the mountain was shrouded in clouds. My dad was talking about how it was his mountain and he had a favorite special spot, and how he loved climbing it. But we passed two exits and didn't stop; I think it had something to do with the fact that although it was a nice day, it would be cold and cloudy at the top.
We continued up a winding road that is a recurring theme in my dreams. There were concrete barriers along the side, and in addition to some nicely done graffiti, there were huge oil paintings hanging, like a gallery. They weren't all that great, but they also weren't terrible, and I wondered if people ever just took them.
We got to a hotel, and in the bathroom I looked at my hair. It was very short, somewhat straighter, and kind of awesome. My red streak was particularly prominent. My mom had left some hairspray on the counter, which had an aerosol nozzle attached to kind of a structured mylar bag. I used some to preserve my totally awesome hair day.
I left the bathroom and found a birthday present my brother's roommate had sent to me--sort of a homemade scrapbook. I realized that she was quite poor, and that this was a thoughtful gift.