Stealing Dream

    My sister and I were trying to take something from a house that we sneaked  into.  She needed some papers that were in there and I was helping her.  I drove her to the place near where she lived in the city.  It was daylight and the back porch was unlocked and nobody was home, so we went in and she was looking for a specific folder  she wanted to get. Everything around seemed to be white though not new:  the walls, the furniture, the entire back porch where she was searching. She seemed fairly calm but I was nervous, afraid of our getting caught. I had gone inside the main part of the house, left my pocketbook in there, retrieved it, and told her I thought we might get caught, as I had seen a  couple of neighbor ladies drive by  and they seemed to look in our direction.  My concerns were affecting her and we left, in my car, the same one I drive now.  The fear of being found out was so strong that every single thing seemed ominous.  When we stopped at a traffic light, I told her that it probably had a camera that snapped a picture of our license plate.  She thought so too and we tried to come up with a valid excuse as to why we might have been in that neighborhood. We could say we were going to her house, but it was not in line with her address.  We could say we were lost, but we were too close to her house.  We could say we were shopping , but the neighborhood was residential.  If we said we were just driving around, we would seem guilty. We drove away, nervous and afraid, of exactly the same mind, as if we were one person, totally united in our distress.