A Camaro Dream

I’d just signed a contract. Half of the money due me was paid and the other half would come later.

I was going next to visit my family. I decided I would surprise them. I bought four condos which were exactly the same, along with four 1968 Chevy Camaros, also exactly the same. Everything was in excellent condition. I can’t tell you what color the cars were, except they were immaculately polished and gleamed in the light.

I would be staying in one condo but I expected my sisters and Mom to stay in the other condos with their families. I would drive one Camaro; they would drive the rest.

Here it gets a little hazy. It’s about the keys. Whenever I got the keys for the cars or condos, there would be a green light.

I went to leave to meet with my sister, driving the Camaro I was giving her. First, I had to stop. There was unfinished business, leaves which needed to be moved away for Dad. I did most of those very fast, with the car door open and the engine running, then went off and picked up my sister and her son.

I told my sister to drive and told her the car was hers. She didn’t fully understand. I took her to the condos. Oddly, the three condos for the family were on one floor; my condo was alone, stacked on top of them.

I told my sister and nephew that this is where I’m staying and that it’s where I wanted them to stay as well. My sister worried about the expense. I kept telling her that I’d bought it and already paid for it.

Another sister arrived with her husband. I gave them the keys to their Camaro and showed them the four cars. They responded, “That’s nice.” I explained a few times that I was giving them the car. They finally got it and were shocked. My brother-in-law kept talking about the cars’ “mint condition”.

Other family arrived. Some young man from the condos came to help people with baggage. He asked, “Which condo is yours?” He seemed concerned about so many people staying in one condo.

I explained to him that I owned four of them but that I was giving three of them to my sisters and mother. I gave him the keys to their three condos. Catching on, he responded, “That cost a fortune.”

Mom was there, in her nurse’s uniform. She worried that she had to go to work. I kept telling her that she didn’t, but she was insistent.

It was raining, with light flooding. To go to work, Mom had to cross a muddy, swampy stream. I didn’t want her to cross because I didn’t think she would make it. But she went. As I watched, she fell into a hole and went underwater. I began rushing forward to help her but a large man showed up on the other side. Reaching down, he lifted Mom, drenched and covered with mud and weeds, and set her down on the other side.

Dream end.

A Sick Dream

First, I was introduced to a security database. It was locked up in a yellow train car that was permanently parked on railroad tracks beside another rail car, red, that was a cafe or restaurant. After being shown it, I was taken to where I lived. I’d be working out of my house. It was an apartment or condo on a plaza’s ground floor. The living room had a large window. From it, I could see the yellow car which held the security database. That pleased me.

My wife had gone out. I was feeling sick. The bed was right off the living room in the house’s front. I had a cold, and my vision was teary and blurry. I also had seven cats. “ALF”, the ‘alien life form’ from the U.S. sitcom shown for several years in the late 1980s, a show I was aware of but rarely if ever watched, was present to help take care of the cats. One cat was sick; I told ALF to give it a shot. He fired buckshot at the cats, and then told me, “I think we had some miscommunication.”

My wife arrived home. I told her I was sick and noticed she was, too, but with milder symptoms, and then told her what ALF had done. My illness seemed to be worsening. Two of my wife’s friends arrived. They sat down to have coffee and tea and chat while I climbed onto the bed to try to rest. I didn’t have any blankets or sheets and kept shifting positions, trying to be comfortable. One of her friends asked my wife, “What’s wrong with him?” My wife replied, “Oh, he’s just sick.”

Dream end.

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