old furniture

I drive to an old house with a large weed choked yard and a gravel driveway. Ray is inside and the place is filled with old furniture from the 70s. Some of it is ugly wood stuff with crochet blankets and pillows, but some is really cool plastic stuff. As we’re talking, he walks outside then drives off in the Bronco I’m driving. I don’t know where is he going or if he’s coming back. I go back inside and look in another room at the living room furniture. Ray comes running back in with my black, rolling suitcase, he has stuck a large sticker to the top. It looks like a work order with my name printed on it.