Dream #9

So you see it, the title there, and you can’t help but hear the song, right?

But this dream doesn’t really have anything to do with that. At least, not that I can tell.

In fact, I think the song has more in common with dream #11 … at least the “poussé, poussé” part, anyway. But you tell me, babe. It’s your trip as much as mine.

Dream #9 then. This one. Not the Lennon one. Not this one, and not this one. This one here and now, in front of your very eyes.

It goes like this:

A friend of mine—who I call Ford in my writing, though I swear that’s a coincidence here—has left a car part in my bed. An engine part, more specifically.

It’s clean. It’s not, like covered in oil or anything. In fact, it looks pristine. Brand new. But I’m like, What the fuck, man? What is this goddam engine part doing in my bed. Did I mention what part it is? It’s like a header or something, I think. But I’m not sure. I don’t know engine parts.

I’m frazzled by it, and am stomping around trying to figure out what the fuck to do with it.

My family is no fucking help, either. In fact, they’re driving me nuts. This is my family of origin, by the dubs. Not my own family, like my wife and kids. It’s my mom and dad and sister. And they’re, like, all up in arms about something, as they often are. Or were. Back in the day.

So I peace out, and take one of the cars over to one of my favorite restaurants.

Once I’m inside, I feel a bit better, like it feels good to be there.

There’s a lesbian meetup going on, and I look to see if I know anyone.

I think a recognize one couple, but they are talking with this other woman I don’t know, and then they are sitting down together, so I decide to just let them be.

About then, my sister walks in.

My parents walk in right after that, and my dad starts chatting up ladies about how he loves this place. It’s cringe as hell, but the lesbians are all entertained by him, so more than that it’s that I want some space from them.

So I dip, get my car from the valet. He gives me a beer in a bottle, and I’m like, Okay, thanks. I drink a bit of it, then realize it’s probably not smart to be driving with an open container and beer breath, but fuck it. I’m not in a great space, so I do it anyway.

I drive the car to the right of the restaurant and end up at this dead end where there is a train tunnel—sort of like a partially open subway—and there are two tracks. Fuckers play chicken on them and pay money to do this. Maybe there’s betting, too? I’m not sure. I’ve heard about it, but I don’t hang around over here. I try not to hit anyone and turn the car around, go back the other way, to the left of the restaurant.

That way ends in a dead end of sorts, as well. There is a road, but it’s blocked off by one of those triangular pole gate dealies1, held to a fence with a chain. There’s a sign about construction of some shit like that.

There is a car behind me, and a boat in front of me. No, the boat isn’t being operated. It’s on a trailer and is chained to the trailer.

I look for a way to turn around, and have to get kind of close to the boat to do it cos of the other car behind me.

When I glance that way, at the other car, to make sure I don’t back into it (no rear-facing camera in this old bitch), I see an African fellow coming at me with a boat oar raised. He’s not running, but is moving at a kind of fast clip. He acts like I’m going to hurt his boat, and his going to whack my car with the oar.

I wave at him that I see him, and hasten my turn around.

As soon as I do, he disengages, and heads over to the boat.

With another wave, I go back toward the restaurant, then turn right just before I get there, and head back into town.

That’s it. That’s the end.

Or is it …

Play procedures

• Personally I feel like this goes with “Lava!” But you tell me. Where does this one fit into your story grid? What’s a story grid? you may ask. If you don’t know it’s chill. You can start one right now. Just write out the character names in a list, then make a row of headers that correspond to The Backbone numbers. Put an X (or number, if you prefer) in each column that the character appears in. Now you have a story grid—or what I mean by that, anyway. You can dither with me over whether it should be called a ‘character grid’ or not, but I’ll just go, Pfft, and put up my slender, long fingered hand. Also, don’t confuse this with the Coyne book of the same name, which I have not read, so I can’t tell you if it’s any good or not.
• You can collect both the Lennon song and the Crowded House one, if you want, even though neither is super relevant here, so it feels a bit like random treasure. But some people like nonsensical loot, so. There ya go. If you’re that type, you can also find, I dunno, a Polish agate worth 100 gold pieces and a +1 dagger of deflection.
• You can expand on any element you want: the header in my bed, the restaurant, the lesbian meetup, the beer in the car, the twin rail chicken hang, the closed access road, the boat and its owner. Or you can, you know, move on. Whatever you like.