Here we go. I dreamed about a Porsche last night. It didn’t belong to me, and it was two pieces.
Let’s step back to what I start remembering of the dream.
I was attending some function being held outside. Pleasant late summer weather ruled. A picnic atmosphere prevailed. I have no idea what triggered the gathering, nor my role. Although I never ‘saw’ other people in the dream for a while, sounds informed me they were present.
The first startling thing was the Porsche.
I came across the rear first. Mounted on a piece of asphalt roadway, the car’s rear was planted in a position that lead me to think that the car was plowing into the ground.
Then, almost immediately, I saw the front end. Facing in the same direction, mounting on a piece of road, it seemed to be emerging from the earth about forty yards away. An older vintage spyder with the top down, it seemed to be a model 365, a car which I like, gray or silver in color.
Oh, what they do for art, I thought. I wondered if it was original, and if it had an engine, and the crazy artist’s identity.
Announcements began from a person holding a megaphone. They were gauzy with distance. I didn’t recognize anything about them.
I discovered that the car belonged to a ‘director’. Little details emerged except the director was a a tall, slender woman with a short blonde bob in a red dress, no one I knew.
The director wanted somebody to drive the car, giving others rides in it for a fee which would be donated to charity. Were there any volunteers?
Silence answered. I spoke up, clarifying what was being asked. I pondered, was there another Porsche involved? Then I discovered the intact car in front of me.
Naturally, I was surprised. I looked at the artwork installation. The road pieces remained but the car pieces were gone. Miraculously to me, they were a solid car. I tried to understand how that happened.
“I’ll drive it,” I volunteered. The chance to drive a vintage Porsche thrilled me. This was going to be fun.
Keys were given to me, and instructions about my agenda. First I was to drive the car to another location.
The director made another announcement; “My car is dirty. I need a volunteer to wash my car.”
Again, nobody spoke so I said that I would do it. That pleased me. Weird as it may sound, I enjoy washing, cleaning, and polishing cars.
In a dream jump, that was done. I was driving the little spyder, top down, on a two lane road. The car, which is a two-seater sports vehicle, now had a big seat, and I had four or five passengers. I could glimpse in the car’s rearview mirror, and heard them chattering, and laughing, enjoying the ride.
I pressed the brake pedal to slow us as we came up on traffic. The car slowed some but we ended up bumping into the car in front of us. It wasn’t a hard impact. I was embarrassed and surprised, and hoped I’d not caused any damage.
The other driver, a bland guy, and I met at the bumpers. He looked at it and shrugged, waving it off. I didn’t see any damage to the Porsche, so I climbed back in and set off.
Though I planned and adjusted for the car’s weak brakes, I almost rear-ended another. This really dismayed me.
“Just as I thought,” I told my wife. “This car has next to no brakes. That’s why it took so long to stop. I’ll need to be careful.”
On those words, the dream ended. I came away thinking that I can step up but exercise some caution. I took that from volunteering when others wouldn’t. However, the brakes weren’t working as expected, hence the idea that caution is needed.
Conversely, my neurons were just having fun with me.
The choices seem equally plausible.
Michael Seidel, writer 