Category: cars

The Porsche Dream

I dreamed about a Porsche again last night. 

I dream about them often, and post about them sometimes. (The last one that I remember posting about was an Arctic blue Porsche cabrio, an older model, and I won the right to drive it thanks to my friend, Kevin.)

Porsche – I’m talking about the car manufacturer – represents success and style to me. I fell for Porsches during my first decade, when I discovered cars and then racing. I became a fan of the E-type Jaguar and the Chevrolet Corvette Stingray.

Jag Corvette

 

 

 

 

From them, I found Aston Martin and Ferrari, and then Indy, Le Mans, Can-Am racing, and Formula One. The Ford GT became dominant at Le Mans in the late sixties, but the Porsches were there, too. Then the mighty Porsche 917 came on the scene, and my neighbor, a Volkswagen sales person, brought home a Porsche 911S and took me for a high-revving ride.

In last night’s dream, I was part of some process. I was with many others that I knew. We were outside. Our role was to receive incoming people. While I understood who the incoming were, that knowledge seeped away once I woke up. I don’t know if they were students or refugees, but both of them paw at me as plausible.

My role was to organize and hand out information packages when the newcomers arrived. The task was in my wheelhouse. I did it quickly and easily. That left me with a lot of free time, so I purchased a Porsche.

Silver, it was a new 911 Turbo Cabriolet, a sweet ride. After I ordered it, it arrived. I walked around, admiring it with my wife. Others came and gawked, asking the usual questions about the expensive high-performance car. That’s your car? You bought it? People were amazed that I had the resources.

That statement became key to understanding the dream.

Meanwhile, between my work, I explored the car. First, I got into it with my wife. The foot wells were shockingly small. Oh no, we didn’t fit. 

Then, miraculously, we did. The Porsche changed to accommodate us…or did we change? It wasn’t clear in the dream world.

The Porsche’s dash was covered by a black plastic panel to protect it during shipping and delivering. I carefully pried it away, revealing a dash that sparkled like jewels.

I wanted to drive it, but the car intimidated me. I knew it was powerful, and I love mashing the throttle when I’m driving. I knew that with this power, the car could bite me in the ass with that behavior. It reminded me that I’d had a powerful sports car in real life. One person told me that they’d owned one, but traded it in after a few months, because the car’s power scared them. Others told me that they’d test-drove the car, but decided against buying it primarily because of its power, speed, and acceleration. Those were the things I loved about it.

RX7

I remembered that car and how I drove it while I dreamed. Those memories reassured my dream-self that I could handle the Porsche. I fired it up and then took it for a short drive, feeling it out, but not opening it up.

I returned to the dealer to do some paperwork. They’d been looking for the car because they hadn’t released it. I was worried that I’d done something wrong, and they laughed, waving it off. “No problem.”

A sales rep took me over to gain full and legal possession of the car. At the counter, I was asked to tell them what car I had. I hesitated. Then I said, “Porsche.”

“Which one?”

I hesitated. As I was about to say, “911 Turbo,” the man with me said, “Top of the line, a Turbo, fully loaded.”

“Wow,” people said. Blushing and self-conscious, I said, “Yes, I have a Turbo.”

It was a strangely reassuring dream about my writing as I walked and thought about my writing turbidity. Relax, and don’t fear the process, I told myself. I’m in a Turbo.

Time to open it up and take it for a ride.

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Seats

You ever get in a strange car, like a rental car, to drive it, and keep adjusting the seat because somehow, your body and that seat just aren’t having a meeting of minds?

Yeah, that can be a pain.

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Floobsession

Floobsession (catfinition) – a cat’s persistent preoccupation with an activity or idea.

In use:  “Papi’s water floobsession drove him awake in the other room. A thump was heard as he jumped to the floor, followed by thundering paws as he galloped down the hall, into the kitchen, and leaped up on the counter with a Cheshire cat grin and a question mark tail.”

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The Porsche Dream

One of last night’s dream seemed structured like a feature film.

It began with me becoming aware of a contest. I can’t tell you the details of the contest. They were vague and dreamy. But I entered the contest and was selected as one of the winners.

That thrilled me. As a prize, I was going to drive a Porsche 911 Cabrio. It wasn’t the current model, but a car that was part of a collector’s garage. I was happy and excited.

But the dream took a twist. Other people needed help. It wasn’t inconsequential help, but help they needed to survive. Although it meant that I would miss out on my prize, I did what I needed to do to help others. Yes, on the one hand, I regretted that I would miss out on my prize. On the other hand, come on, it’s a silly prize, compared to the larger picture of helping others who are fighting to survive. There wasn’t a question; it’s what needed to be done.

Smiling and happy, they thanked me after I helped them (I literally gave a number of people helping hands to climb out of muddy, swollen rivers.) When it was all over, I waved good-bye to them, satisfied with the result.

Taking another turn in the dream, though, a friend, Kevin, showed up. He said, “I called the guy and told him what you did and why you didn’t get your prize. He admired you, so he came up with another prize for you.” I was presented with the keys to an Arctic blue Porsche 911 Cabrio.

Oh, it was gorgeous. Although it was a cold day, with melting snow all over the place, it was sunny, and the car’s top was down. Kevin and I got into the car. I started it up and drove it carefully through puddles of slush and over patches of snow and ice.

Kevin said, “Come on. What are you doing? My grandma drives faster than this. Open it up.”

But I’d had a plan. I was getting to a place where I could turn and go up a hill onto a mountain road. Right as Kevin finished making his plaintive statements, I downshifted and mashed the throttle. As he was slammed back in his seat, he laughed and said, “Whoa, shit. This is more like it.”

Laughing, with the car’s engine in full song, I accelerated up the mountain road.

That was the dream’s ending.

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The School Zone Button

I was thinking about another problem that’s not really a problem, and was surprised that some car company hasn’t already solved it.

Driving through the school zone, I wondered why my car didn’t have a “School Zone Button.” My car, a Mazda CX-5, is a pretty smart car. Its lights and wipers go on whenever the need is detected.

It’s locks are always tricking us, evidence of how smarter it is than us. The door locks are key-less, and depends on you having a fob on your person. You press a button on the outside door handle to unlock it. The car gives you a few friendly beeps and lets you in. But if the button has already been pushed on one side, and someone pushes on the button on the other side, say my wife, the car goes into a frenzy of beeping warning that kind of reminds me of the robot on “Lost in Space” saying, “Danger, Will Robinson!” Walking it is much easier; you just walk away. The car has options to change all of these settings, but they’re exhausting to navigate.

The car has a built in navigation system. This system will show you the speed limit for the road you’re on, and tell you when you’re speeding. You figure that if the car already knows the speed for the road, and knows that I’m in a school zone, I should be able to press a button that will keep the car at the school zone speed.

Yeah, I know, how hard is it to keep a car at that speed? Well, from the number of people who ignore it, it’s pretty damn hard. The school zones seem to go a million miles around the schools in Ashland, starting at 7 AM and going to 5 PM. I rarely see a child in any of them.

The School Zone Button. It’s an idea whose time has come.

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Dream Fulfillment

When I was young, I imagined great careers for myself, glamorous and exciting vocations, like rock star or racing driver. Didn’t come close to either of those, but fulfilled one of them in last night’s dream.

Yes, I was a racing driver, an unknown in Formula 1. Being unknown bothered me not. I was just happy to be there. I was with another rookie driver. Short, he was from somewhere in South America. This was the season’s second race. He’d won the first race. I wasn’t in the first race, but the media was mobbing us because we were rookies, especially him, winning that first race, and his F1 debut.

The time for the current race arrived. There wasn’t any qualifying for reasons I don’t know, and I was starting from the back. (I think this was just a dream contrivance as a metaphor for how I view myself and my life sometimes.)

Then, just like that, I was surging through the field, was at the front and gone. My wife was in the pits, watching, and was mega-impressed. (Yes, I was given that view.)

“Where’s the other guy?” I wondered about my fellow rookie while the race was still going on. That question permitted me to view a screen in my car that showed the car’s relative positions, a setting that you can sometimes select in video racing games.

There was my car, in light blue, number one, and well ahead of the pack. The other rookie, in red, was fifth from last. I was exuberant for myself, and sympathetic for him.

I won, of course, amazing all. My wife’s excitement seemed to equal my own. If only life could be more like my dreams….

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The Control Dreams

Little late posting about this, as I dreamed it on winter solstice. 

It was a simple dream. I was driving one of three vehicles. Other people were driving the other vehicles. One vehicle controlled the others. I wasn’t in that vehicle, so I lacked control. But I wanted it. Lack of experience with the vehicle and ignorance about what was transpiring hampered me.

The cars were impressive. Closed cockpit, but definitely road cars, they were extremely low, powerful, silent and fast. They were also identical. I knew the other two drivers in the dream as people from earlier years of life.

We took off driving. I was third in line. In an interesting twist (maybe interesting only to me), I went from a close, over the shoulder point-of-view in which I saw myself, my controls and the road ahead, to a long, wide shot that featured the three sleek, silver vehicles silently racing along an elevated white highway.

Back in the car’s cockpit, I decided I wanted control. So I took it with by flicking a switch. Now I was the one driving as the other two chaffed about me taking control. But I had it and didn’t relinquish it, and they accepted that after their brief complaints.

That’s essentially the dream, but subsequent activity was interesting. First, I awoke on the day after solstice feeling like a tremendous weight on been removed. I felt lighter, stronger, and more energetic and optimistic.

Two, among several dreams was a repeat of this dream a few nights later. It went almost exactly the same way.

I thought it a good omen for a new year, but then, I’m an optimist. Have a good day.

Cheers

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For Today’s Dreams

I need to think about and research these items from last night’s dreams:

  • Eating ham, and wrapping ham to take with me
  • Q-tips
  • Attending a rock concert in Japan
  • And the words, “Trey Chico,” which made a lot of sense to me in the dream

The name of the concert was “Trey Chico.” Three boys, I wondered several times during my dream.

It was an interesting concert venue. The stage was on one end in a field, about a mile from a field for parking cars. Between the parking and stage were long, open rows between rows of small apartments. Japanese people set up blankets in the open rows, and waited for the concert in the apartments.

We arrived early, in late afternoon for the concert. My wife was with me. We were in the cheap section. Meeting others, I ate some ham. I never saw any of the concert. I left right before they were supposed to play “The Star-Spangled Banner”. My wife stayed at the concert when I left. I wrapped ham in paper to take with me before I left, and made sure I took my laptop computer with me.

It was dark, but with lighting when I left. Fences blocked some sections. Others were attempting to leave, as well. I knew that the fences were there, but didn’t know how to get around them. A Japanese man came up and told us how to do it.

Walking through the open rows to get to parking, I was warned several times not to step on the Japanese, or their blankets. I cut back and forth, sometimes running, to go the mile to the field, and sometimes entered and left one of the small apartments. I thought they were clever, and that the concert arrangement was clever.

I ran into my wife in one of the apartments. She was with friends. They’d gone to a nearby shop, and then toured this apartment. Showing me Q-tips, she said, “They have the right Q-tip holders. We saw them. Where did we see them?” I knew, but I didn’t answer her.

Reaching the parking field, I oriented myself. After counting the rows, I turned and walked down one row to my car.

The dream ended.

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