Rabbits in a Bath

I was in a house that seemed only partially familiar. There was a large open floor plan, rooms with instruments and tiled floors and a bit too much empty space. Then a strong earthquake struck. Parts of the floor in different rooms sank several feet into the ground. I looked around in the aftermath. Dust and broken plaster covered the floor. Somehow there was a feeling of inevitability about this. This house, whatever it was, wasn't supposed to last forever.

Later I was in a much more familiar house. I looked out of a second-floor window and saw a meteor streak across the night sky, colliding into the ground with a flash of purple light. I ran across the house to shout a warning about an impending shockwave, but when it came a second later, the ground only trembled slightly. Déjà vu?

Later that night...

I was driving a cramped van across a city, looking for six people I had to pick up. The sun set. I drove across an empty parking lot at night. A red man ominously followed the van. I picked up all six and peeled off. I never saw him again.

The passengers I'd picked up weren't human, they were rabbits.

I drove up a hill and stopped at a hotel. This place had paper walls and sliding doors like a traditional Japanese hotel. There were a lot of other people staying in this place. We entered a sort of living room. Adjacent was a small bathroom with a tub. The beds were someplace else in the building.

The rabbits each took a turn bathing in the tub without replacing the water - apparently they weren't bothered by it and didn't care to waste time refilling the tub each time. By the time the last rabbit climbed out and dried off, there was a layer of dirt at the top of the water.

I decided to follow their lead and wash myself using the same water, although I swept some of the dirty water away and gave myself a sponge bath instead of submerging myself into it.

The hotel served a dinner. The rabbits sat and started to eat and and watch something. I walked down the hallway looking for the bedrooms and promptly became lost. The bedrooms were all separate and very tiny - only enough room for the actual bed. There were rows of them along several hallways which looked identical to me. I could see that many of them were already occupied.