It's quitting time. Carrying my briefcase, I head for the parking lot, only to find that my humongous RAM pickup is totally blocked in by other vehicles. Not a problem. Magically, the truck shrinks down to 3' in length, I pick it up, turn it around, and carry it to an open area.
The truck morphs back to full size, at which time my old friend John hops into the backseat. 'Where's your car?' I ask him. He replies, 'It was stolen!' John opens up a folding map, places it on his lap and starts studying it intently. Then, he opens the flip-top console, which has a dashboard mount-style floating compass inside. He continues to study the map, pausing every few seconds to slap the compass. He doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at the map and slapping the compass, over and over. You're one weird dude, John.
I get into the truck on the passenger side to find Ranger napping in the driver's seat and Artie standing on the floor beside him. Then, Holy Crap! I realize the pickup is moving. But nobody's driving! What the hell? Panic! Gotta get the dogs out of the way and get into the driver's seat before we crash into something!
I solve the problem by waking up. Mr Totally Nuts strikes again.
The part about the truck moving along, with me not in control, is a recurrent theme. Sometimes it's because my legs weigh a ton each and I can't move them to the foot pedals. Other times, the brakes don't work - or I'm dozing and can't seem to wake up enough to take control, even though I know I have to. I always wake up before I run off the road or crash into something.
Terry had a hilarious one the other night - a "no control" dream. He got out of it by waking up too. Mine are hardly ever stressful and rarely do I remember them.
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