The Boots Dream

Dream fade in. My wife and I had been traveling. We stopped at a little place. Turned out that an elderly couple owned it.

They were very friendly. Walking around, we visited with them. I noticed some of their yard, driveway, and parking lot was unkempt compared to their business, so I cleaned it up for them. That pleased them, as they showered me with thanks.

As I cleaned, I discovered a car for sale. An old bronze vehicle, it was circa the early sixties, long and wide, with the wing fin rear end popular among American vehicles of the era. As I checked it out, I discovered another car was inside it, and another car inside that. Three nested cars! All were bronze and white.

The man asked me if I was interested in it. I told him that I didn’t want to buy it but I wanted to drive it, if it drove. “Oh, it drives,” he replied, providing me with the keys. I drove it around the parking lot, grinning as I went. I sat inside the innermost car, which was normal size, and drove the three vehicles in one around.

Other friends arrived. My friends and I dressed to go out on the town. I was much younger now. For some reason, I was wearing ostrich leather cowboy boots with my jeans and along duster. I thought I looked great in the dream even though my consciousness within the dream was saying, “What are you thinking?”

We wandered around alleys and streets where cars weren’t permitted, poking in on shops, restaurants, and bars, trying to decide what to do as evening fell. I became separated from them for a bit and walked on my own. When I came across three of them again, I called out, “Hey, there you are. What’s going on?”

They didn’t respond, walking past as if I wasn’t there. That annoyed me. By then, I’d decided I didn’t like the boots or the duster, so I decided to head back to my hotel room. Other friends came by. They called from behind me, “Where you going?” Not up to explaining, I just said, “I’m done. I’m going on.”

I returned to the hotel room. My wife said, “Why are you wearing those boots? Where did you even get them?”

I answered, “I don’t know. They’re not me.” Then I wrenched them off and tossed them aside.

The dream ended.

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