I dreamed that my car was actually a pick up truck. Its bed was raised ten feet from the ground. It was white or gray, and it had one of those basket-on-a-crane things that cherry pickers have, only bigger and sturdier.  

I was driving down the road and my father was riding with me. We heard  his annoying sound, a dull, metallic rattle. I pulled over to see where it was coming from and my father saw that one of the bolts holding one part of the truck to another was lose. I was just seeing the truck then, understanding that it was mine and that it was apparently what I've been driving all this time instead of a car. We saw another lose bolt or panel that was making all the noise.  

The building I had parked in front of was an apartment. It was unoccupied and up for rent. I was there to see it. It had a generous floor area but the decor was just a little too crowded. It looked like its previous occupants were hippies who never left the 70s. They were also swingers; there were several areas where throw pillows were arranged around a circular space, suggesting a stage. It looked like it was for group activities, and people either watched or participated or both.  

There was a lot of faded pastel, flower-power type of things hanging on the walls, maybe banners, and there were windows running the length of facing walls. The windows were the kind that swing out on their horizontal axis. It was light and airy but there was a faint, dry smell, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, suggesting something that hadn't been touched in a while.  The second floor was more of the same, more 70s stuff and orgy nooks.  

I went back downstairs and asked the landlord how much the rent was. He said whatever was good for both of us. I thought it was a good price for something that big. But I was uncomfortable with the decor.