The Shooting/Driving Dream

Back in a sports car for this dream. In this case, the car was a white C5 Corvette convertible.

The top was retracted on the car. I began by getting ready to leave. Some folks were watching me from a viewing stand. Examining how I was to leave, I decided that I would drive my white Corvette down a short chute and up the other side. With enough speed and traction, I should be able to scale the wall on the side, reach the white carpet on top and drive away. After explaining this to others, I deemed this a risky but do-able shortcut. I then did it as a practice run, to prove it could be done.

Satisfied, I stood aside to wait for the time to leave. Enveloped by a sunny day, blessed with blue sky, I was dressed in a white sweater and white pants. Out of the car, I stood around with my arms crossed. The chute, wall, and viewing stand were also white of various degrees from white sand to egg shell and pure white. While I was waiting, confident and smiling, enjoying a refreshing breeze, others approached me. They’d witnessed my shooting, they told me, and were impressed, confirming that I’d shot eleven bullets into eleven pre-existing holes without damaging the holes or missing. This was an earlier competition that I’d won. After accepting their compliments, the time to leave arrived. I drove my car as I’d done before, but didn’t quite reach the white carpet on top. Lacking traction, the car fell back, not like a car would, though, but more like a person, ‘catching’ itself as it fell. It suffered no damage; neither did I.

A man on the viewing stand said with a sniff, “I knew he wouldn’t do it. It just demonstrates that he’s a braggart.” As they turned to leave, I returned in my car, drove down the chute, and completed the departure as planned. None were there to witness it, but I still felt vindicated.

Failing and Rising

Failing and rising, you select a place in the curl and fall on your ass, get back up and try again

hunting balance, trying to keep the ride going or find another one

but the winds die and fall, and the seas grow tranquil

leaving you becalmed and lost

you can wait for the next wave or you can paddle out to meet them

pushing yourself to find a wave to ride

failing and rising, paddling and jumping up, striving to get your balance and keep riding

crashing and going under, afraid that you’ll never come up again

getting up and trying again

riding in search of a beginning

and end

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