Dream a little dream
First, I was walking down a highway to go to a frozen yogurt stand. I got there, and realized I didn't have any money. In fact, all I had on was my long-but-not-that-long sleep shirt and flowered panties. I started finding quarters on the ground in the parking lot,
Some guy sold me a tiny little two-seater Italian convertable, an old Fiat, I think, for $200. Nothing fancy; terra cotta-colored primer and rusty. I guess I went home and got the money? His was selling it because the previous owner had disappeared owing him money.
Anyway, I started dressing the part: I had on a black leather jacket and matching driving cap, and I was zooming down the highway at 2AM...had on a big gold wristwatch (Reminded me of the 150th anniversary Burberry special edition) and someone gave me another watch, also gold, leather band, Mickey Mouse, which I stuck in my inside jacket pocket with parts of another watch, because I knew that way it wouldn't accidentally get trashed. (Yesterday, Mb had on one of the TV shopping channels, and they were touting pleather jackets at premium prices, which I thought/think is absurd.) I knew I wouldn't casually chuck my REAL leather jacket in the washer.
It turned out that unbeknownst to the guy who sold me the car, there was a body in the trunk. (Previous owner.) The killer had put it there so as not to leave evidence in his own vehicle. (The Casy Anthony trial has left its mark.) The guy who sold the car ended up as a flame-broiled corpse, and the killer stole back the body.
When I looked in the trunk, there was no body, just rusted-out holes you could see the ground through. There was a snagged piece of thread or cloth that gave me a clue, though, and I took it to the police with my suspicions.
Then, I wasn't in the car any more, I had this...flying seat. It was about four feet long, like a cross between a banana seat and a motorcycle double seat, blue vinyl-covered, no steering, no visible power source, but it sure was fun to fly/drive.
I had a meeting with my handler, because apparently I was some kind of agent---and it was Gordon Ramsey, who took me into his study and was getting ready to explain the code I'd be using, which was on his wall as some kind of Gaelic motto, when I awoke.
I recounted this to Mb---she thinks I've watched too much TV. That still doesn't explain the fro-yo and panties....
.
Some guy sold me a tiny little two-seater Italian convertable, an old Fiat, I think, for $200. Nothing fancy; terra cotta-colored primer and rusty. I guess I went home and got the money? His was selling it because the previous owner had disappeared owing him money.
Anyway, I started dressing the part: I had on a black leather jacket and matching driving cap, and I was zooming down the highway at 2AM...had on a big gold wristwatch (Reminded me of the 150th anniversary Burberry special edition) and someone gave me another watch, also gold, leather band, Mickey Mouse, which I stuck in my inside jacket pocket with parts of another watch, because I knew that way it wouldn't accidentally get trashed. (Yesterday, Mb had on one of the TV shopping channels, and they were touting pleather jackets at premium prices, which I thought/think is absurd.) I knew I wouldn't casually chuck my REAL leather jacket in the washer.
It turned out that unbeknownst to the guy who sold me the car, there was a body in the trunk. (Previous owner.) The killer had put it there so as not to leave evidence in his own vehicle. (The Casy Anthony trial has left its mark.) The guy who sold the car ended up as a flame-broiled corpse, and the killer stole back the body.
When I looked in the trunk, there was no body, just rusted-out holes you could see the ground through. There was a snagged piece of thread or cloth that gave me a clue, though, and I took it to the police with my suspicions.
Then, I wasn't in the car any more, I had this...flying seat. It was about four feet long, like a cross between a banana seat and a motorcycle double seat, blue vinyl-covered, no steering, no visible power source, but it sure was fun to fly/drive.
I had a meeting with my handler, because apparently I was some kind of agent---and it was Gordon Ramsey, who took me into his study and was getting ready to explain the code I'd be using, which was on his wall as some kind of Gaelic motto, when I awoke.
I recounted this to Mb---she thinks I've watched too much TV. That still doesn't explain the fro-yo and panties....
.