please analyze my bathrobe

Dreamed last night that I was in PDX with Vickie (because when the travel stars line up nicely, I will be). Brandon was driving us to the mall in a minivan, and when we got there, I realized that I had not changed out of my bathrobe. I couldn't even leave the car to buy myself an outfit. Vickie was so mad she took Brandon shopping and left me in the minivan all by myself. I decided to call my friend Myndie, who lives in Pauoa (because you know, Pauoa is an easy enough drive from Portland), who has a daughter about my size. I was sure she'd let me borrow one of her daughter's t-shirts.

"I guess I could let you borrow a shirt," Myndie said when I got there. "But then again, that wouldn't teach you much of a lesson in responsibility, would it?"

"But don't you think I've been so much more responsible this year than, well, pretty much every other year I've worked here?" (Somehow, Myndie had morphed into a judgmental co-worker and I was now on some weird defensive.)

"No," she replied.

"Are you kidding me?! Sure, there's the occasional forgotten sign-in or lunch count but look at everything else I'm responsible for!"

"And that's another thing," Myndie replied. "Why would you go and involve yourself in this Inquiry Showcase when you have so much else on your plate? You should be like me. I participated in that showcase last year, and now I don't have to do it this year or ever again."

"How is that helpful?"

"I'm just trying to tell you that if you go to the mall in a bathrobe, you shouldn't expect other people to solve your friends."

(I think she/my subconscious meant "problems" but she/my subconscious said "friends.")

I told her to just forget it and that I was leaving. By then I kind of knew it was a dream, so I said, "I just need to wake up a little bit and figure out how to get back to Portland from here."

When I settled back into my dream, I was in the backseat of the minivan, still in my bathrobe, and a Vietnamese taxi driver was sitting in the driver's seat. "Sir, this is my car," I said.

"Oh, oh ya, okayokay, ya, this your car." He got out and grumbled into his walkie-talkie that his plan to steal the minivan had been "foyoed." My alarm rang as I was rolling up the windows and locking the doors.