The endless Search for one More quarter

"I was standing at a laundromat, or a vending machine, it kept changing, with a handful of quarters and needed just one more to make it work, though I couldn't tell you what "it" was. I counted them in my palm, came up one short, counted again, came up with the right number, then short again. I reached into my pocket and pulled out more, except these were heavier, older looking, with a face on them I didn't recognize. I tried feeding one into the slot and it just rolled out the bottom, clinking onto the floor, and when I bent to pick it up there were dozens scattered around my feet that hadn't been there a second before. A woman next to me said something about the machine only taking certain years, and I nodded like that made sense. I started sorting them on the floor by date but the numbers kept rearranging themselves whenever I looked away. Somehow I had a bag full of them, too heavy to carry, and I was walking down a hallway with it dragging behind me. Woke up with my fist clenched around nothing, still counting."