Found this in my documents today. I took a nap after work one day last year and woke up at just the right time to remember the entire dream. I made sure to write it down before I forgot it. As far as I can remember I transcribed it exactly as I remembered it. One final note: I frequently dream about running or driving out of control; either being unable to slow down or stop, or being drunk while driving, or trying to run away while my feet can’t touch the ground. Enjoy!
Hanging out at Paul’s tonight, but the first thing is to meet his two friends on the way over in the parking lot. It’s cold out. I can’t remember one of them but the cute one was Laura. Cute, or available? I think she was the sister of Paul’s friend. I don’t know why I did this but I moved as if to make out with her. She recoiled, and I played it off; no harm no foul. Is that how desperate I am? I’ve never even thought of trying something like that but there it was and I’ve known this girl for ten seconds. I saw the look on her face, she knew. We’re hanging out at Paul’s, there are some more introductions. A couple old friends there, but I can’t remember their names. The one girl, the fat one, she is always fading into the background for me. She says something and I say “yeah sure”. Not the first time it will happen tonight. Laura is still cute, she seems interested enough in me, I try to make conversation but its too hard, I keep drifting to other places. The details fade incredibly fast, but I remember how amazing Paul’s apartment was. It was at least four floors, the top was the only part I knew, but somehow there was this incredible cavernous space two floors down. Wood paneling and books. Lots and lots of books. Paul somehow got the sweetest space in town, the one with all the books and all the space. I’ve been drunk the whole night, and I will keep getting drunker, but I don’t remember drinking. Hanging out and talking. Ignoring the fat one, and the ugly one. She seems to be getting annoyed. I feel bad. What’s her name again? I realize what a jerk I’ve been and the fat girl calls me out on it. “You didn’t hear a word I just said.” I feel awful, apologize, I come totally clean. I’ll be better in the future, I swear. I really felt bad, at least I can say that. Then there’s the part that just has no place in this at all: CVS. It’s in the middle of the space in Paul’s apartment of course, suspended in midair. The story would be much better without it, but there it was. I pick up some toiletries: razor blades, acne medicine, but I can’t remember the last one I needed. I’m sure I have soap and shampoo. Oh well. The hardest part is getting across the counter (I’m sitting on it). If I fall off I’ll die, but the clerk doesn’t seem concerned (really nice black lady). I start inching my way across and the whole thing starts to tilt, I’m falling off, but she grabs me and saves my life. Swipe my card, go back to the party. This is the worst of how I can feel at parties. Playing the party goer just fine, jokes and laughs, but not connecting with anyone, and worse I can feel their mockery. Some kids I teach are there hanging out, and I remember all the wrong things are there for them to see. Porn. I can never go back there again. Will finds the camera with the pictures of us hanging out last time. Neither of us remember it, but there he is giving someone a piggy-back ride. We must have been so wasted. I can’t let them drink with me! I hear one of the kids mutter something about weirdness. Why are we hanging out in my room? Looking on my computer? Why do I have those pictures as my background (girls). This is a disaster. Things are getting bad. The girl whose name I can’t remember brings it up, and I freak out. They freak out. I storm off to complain to Dave in his room: about it all, about having to remember and expectations and pressure and people, and the next thing I know I’m driving. Driving away from this mess, from my life because I can’t go back to it, I couldn’t keep up with those people; I wasn’t good enough. Not even Laura, she liked me, but I couldn’t make it work, mean the right things. And worst of all, driving drunk. Really drunk. I’m still going straight though, I’m fine. But then cops start showing up. Sirens blaring, but they’re heading the other way. Fast. I have to get out of the way, so now I’m in the left lane as they buzz down the right, sirens blaring. Sleek, black police cars, hot on the chase. More and more are coming, now in both lanes, and I have to switch to the shoulder. I start hitting the brake now, because I have to stop, but of course it doesn’t work. If I was just sober I could control the car and stop it but there’s this sense of inevitability. I know this is going to end bad, but if I keep my foot on the brake maybe it won’t be quite so bad. The cops start aiming for me right down the should now, they’re still hot on the chase. I’m not even avoiding them by my own skill now. Like in the hallway at school, I feign left and he feigns to my left and it takes a last second swerve to avoid the collision. Getting so lucky, but it can’t last. Now I’m at the station, this is where they register and release your car back to you (after what?). Now I’m dodging and swerving around parked cars, the same sleek black police cars. Foot on the brake, I must be slowing down, but its still to fast to register what happens. I must be almost stopped now when I see I’ve run out of room. Two parked cars with officers standing outside them, I can squeeze between and I’m almost stopped oh god I hit the pole and I’m drunk I hope it isn’t too bad. Ok be cool. Get out of the car, the cop is already there with his clipboard and his list of questions. I glance at the car. Man it was so nice, how could I crash it. It was a mazda, brand new. The front end had that new styling and must have looked great in the mirror clean blue paint job. The damage is much worse than I thought it would be, the whole front end is wedged together and pushed up. I’m fucked. He starts asking questions, and I can’t hear them and I can’t answer them, because I’m so drunk, even drunker than I thought I was. My life is ruined. “Where were you going tonight” Home, I don’t know, I don’t know where, nowhere. “My brakes didn’t work, officer” I’m not slurring and he doesn’t know yet but he will. I don’t have a chance. How could I have fucked everything up so bad?
Oh my god I’m in bed. Of course my brakes didn’t work, it was one of those dreams again. I have my life back. Only 7:30? still time to go out tonight…
