I had this dream last night:
I was the passenger in a car that felt like a small sedan, somewhat sport, like an Acura or a nice Hyundai or something. The driver was a younger guy who seemed to be a nephew or some kind of relative. In the dream, I did not have a good feeling about his driving.
We were on a mountain highway–you can probably see where this is going (no pun intended)–and it reminded me of the Upper Levels Highway on the way to Horseshoe Bay or maybe the Malahat Drive on the way to Victoria–a windy highway that hugs the face of the mountain, with water hundreds of meters below. As we sped along, I saw ahead of us a bunch of fir tree branches, like you might find on a typical Christmas tree. Why they were laying across the highway I cannot say, but instead of driving around them, my possible nephew drove over them, perhaps thinking them a minor obstacle. As he did, the car got caught on them and started drifting into the oncoming lanes.
I distinctly remember audibly saying in a very calm voice, “No no no no no…” as I knew this would not end well. Surprisingly, my nephew did that “steer into the skid” thing, corrected and got us back on our side of the road without hitting any of the oncoming traffic. “Yay!” my dream-self thought. But only for a moment, because while we were in our own lane, we were not heading down the lane, but rather across it, at full speed. There was no time to correct, nor was there even time for me to chant, “No no no no…” to myself again. I did have sufficient time to absolutely know this would not end well.
I woke up either just before the car hit the concrete barrier at full speed, or just as it hit. I laid there in bed with the dream still fully intact in my mind, my imagination playing through what would have happened next:
- The car smashes into the barrier and the barrier is sufficiently strong enough to prevent it from plowing through, instead causing it to crumple into nothing or possibly explode–then tumble merrily over the edge.
- Or the car does smash through the concrete barrier and goes flying off the mountain at high speed, sailing unimpeded all the way down before striking the water (or rocks) at the bottom at approximately Mach 2.
In both cases, the chance of survival would be pretty much zero, unless right at the end it turned into one of those, “Hey, I can fly!” dreams. That might have been worth staying asleep for. But as mentioned in the title of this post, while my subconscious hates me (by subjecting me to this dream), it still respects me enough to wake me up before the really bad parts happen.
So here’s a half-hearted thank you to my brain. Tonight, if I dream, I want the dream to be pleasant and delightful. It doesn’t have to be enchanting, too, though I wouldn’t object to that. And if any cliffs are involved, I better be able to fly, even if it’s by flapping my arms.
