Cars & Book Dream

I was staying at an exotic luxury place in a high-end location in the center of some city. I knew these things in my dream. No reason for being there was ever given. Everything was very fancy, chrome, blue windows, steel, and muted white furniture, modern, and new, although never named. I’d been put up in the place and was newly arrived and just familiarizing myself with it. A ground-floor location, several parts of my huge place was open to the street, something that I didn’t find odd, but enjoyed.

Background done, the action began when I walked across the place and accidently kicked a can, sending it out into the traffic. Dusk was settling in and lights were just coming on. Exasperated, I resolved to retrieve the can because everything looked so clean and gorgeous. As I went out to get it, a car hit the can, sending it flying further down the road where another car coming from the opposite direction flattened it.

More irritated, I hastened to get the can. I could see a line of cars accelerating up the double lane toward the can. I would need to rush.

I didn’t make it. Forced back by the oncoming traffic, I then saw a stream of such flattened cans in the street under the cars. I was disgusted.

“Asshole,” someone shouted. I saw two men. Both were white, with mustaches and long brown hair. One was tall and the other was short. One of them had yelled. I thought they meant me.

Seeing me seeing them, they chuckled and said, “We weren’t calling you an asshole. We were going whoever threw their can out an asshole. Unless it was you who did it. Then we are calling you an asshole.”

“No,” I answered, “I didn’t throw a can.” I explained what’d been going on.

They noticed a small hardcover book I carried and began talking about it. An older book, the tome was about three racing drivers, but the novel was considered ‘literary’. The two men highly recommended it. I responded that I was a novelist and the book enticed me because of its literary reputation, but I’d also been a racing fan.

We were walking by then. I was looking for my place and couldn’t find it. They invited me to join them at a restaurant for a drink. I agreed and we went into a red-theme place — red carpet and bar, red leather seats, red lights, red walls and curtains, red neon. As we chatted, the tall one went off for our drinks and the short one said that he hoped I was serious about what I said about the book and that I wasn’t just going along with them.

I told him, no, and we started chatting about racing. I told him that the late sixties and early seventies had captured my deepest racing interest. I enjoyed the three-liter Formula 1 cars of that age, especially Lotus and the 72, but also the Tyrrells, the Indy cars dominated by the Offy and Ford engines, the sports-racing cars of LeMans like the Chaparral 2D, and the Can Am cars like the McLarens, the Lola T70, and the 2J. (Yes, I actually said all of this in the dream.) They remarked with smiles that it sounded like I really knew my cars. The tall one said, “You should meet my sister.”

We’d finished our drinks and I decided to go. The dream’s final sequences involved me retracing my steps, looking for where I was staying, and then finding it.

Dream end. It was all quite vivid and sharply remembered.

Monday’s Wandering Thought

He read the news article about a man stealing from people during an overnight flight. One woman had 10,000 USD and 13,000 Argentinian pesos stolen from her. He and his wife were shocked that she’d be carrying that much currency and that someone was able to steal it from her. As his wife said, “If I had that much on me on an aircraft, I wouldn’t be sleeping, and I’d probably be sitting on my purse.”

Monday’s Theme Music

The thermometer crushed 90 F yesterday, beating expectations. Clouds never bothered turning up. I often amuse myself, crediting the sun for the heat. Yeah, while the sun is our primary heat source, weather systems, highs and lows, and humidity, allied with seasons and the axis tilt and all that, affect the local temperature. Not informing you, just reminding myself.

The Earth’s established rotation returned my valley into sunshine at 5:45 this morning. I check each day to ensure it comes up in the west per usual. But honestly, if reality flipped on me and it rose in the east instead, would I be able to comprehend the diff? I suspect not. That’s how reality works. It messes with your head and expectations.

We sit at a comfortable 17 C right now. Change to that is expected as we’ll see temperatures pop up to 99 F. Sunset will come at 8:48 PM. This is the weather for Monday, July 11, 2022.

The Neurons have three songs circulating in the morning mental music stream. The first is a beat called “Wildwood Weed” by Jim Stafford. The 1974 song was a dryly humorous story about farmer brothers discovering marijuana on their land, their growing fondness of the weed, and the government coming in and digging it up and burning it.

Second up was Willie Nelson’s 1982 cover of “You Were Always On My Mind”. The heartfelt ballad has been recorded by hundreds of groups and individuals. Elvis Presley had a memorable hit with it. But I like Willie’s softly reflective version. Guess that’s why The Neurons tucked it into the stream.

Last was a recent theme song selection, one that’s been done a few times, “Weapon of Choice” by Fatboy Slim. I enjoy Walken’s dancing in the video. That almost made me remember the song as much as its melody and its lyrics. Almost. I often find myself mentally singing, “You can go this way, you can go that way.” Then I hear that bass line.

As the second song wasn’t featured as my theme music at any time in the past, I thought I’d keep it loaded in the mental music stream and make it the day’s choice. As for why any of them are in the stream to begin, The Neurons take the fifth.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and, you know, protect yourself and those around you, yeah? Okay. Speaking of protection, I’m going for coffee now. It protects me from all kinds of imaginable ills. Here’s the tune. Cheers


11:30 PM. 72 degrees F outside. The night was still. Nothing stirred. Moon and starshine relieved the night’s black canopy.

He slipped outside with a flashlight and quietly looked up and down the street and around the bushes. Just as expected, he found no zombies.

He nodded to himself as he returned inside. This conclusively proved that zombies don’t like warm weather.

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: