… and the gear shift was marked “child,” “dorito,” and “limeR

Mirrored from brigidkeely.com/wordpress.

For whatever reason, Niko was up and down all night which meant a night of very interrupted sleep, which for me usually means weird-as-all-fuck dreams. Most memorable of them was a 2-parter that involved 2 abandoned buildings we (where “we” was me, Nesko, my youngest brother, and some other people) had recently gotten ahold of and were trying to figure out how to rehab them and what we would use them for. There was actual talk about ripping out walls, etc. Only we were all dressed like we were at a Vampire: The Masquerade LARP in the late 90s… lots of black vinyl and fishnets and eye liner and flannel and really appalling hair.

One of the two buildings had a very large room on the second floor that was all dusty floorboards and decaying plaster and lathe walls with chunks of plaster missing and the lathe showing ominously through, a big faded oriental carpet in the middle of the floor several tones lighter than it should have been from thick dust. It was a massive room with two incredibly worn out white wing chairs, and an attached nursery and bathroom. The windows were wooden framed with wobbly glass and iron counter weights. We were debating what to do with that room, especially. It had been billed to us as the master bedroom and I wanted to keep it that way, but everyone else wanted to subdivide it into smaller rooms for some reason having to do with a threat of some sort.

The lighting and everything was kind of horror-movie ish, and there was lots of dirt and grim and it was hard to actually see anything and all the wall paper on the walls looked like it had been soaking in tea for awhile.

The dream shifted, as dreams do, and I realized that I was Jeffrey Rowland from “Over Compensating” which is not something I have ever aspired to be. Some other people and I were holed up in a barn, but it wasn’t a very good barn… the walls of it were wood slats and the wood was gappy and had bits missing so you could pretty much see inside from the outside and see the outside from inside, and it would have been pretty much impossible to actually defend. I was sitting in the passenger seat of a car in this barn that was filled with junk, and there was something about breakfast so I got out of the car and then someone else came in and I yelled at them to get away from my car, so I went over to it again.

Only it wasn’t a car, it was a table that someone had made into a car by attaching casters to the legs and an engine and gear shift to the underside of the table. Because of the location of the shifter, it was impossible to read what gear you were in, but that didn’t really matter because instead of “P,” “D,” “R” etc it said “Child,” “dorito,” “coffee cup” and “lime.” (Yes, I can read in dreams about half the time.) These weren’t really, you know, very explanatory. I think there was a steering wheel, but I don’t remember. Someone my brain identified as The Sheriff burst in and I had to peel out of there and escape. I didn’t know what gear to use though! I cycled through them all, quickly, and managed to get out of the barn and drove down a country road.

Part of the problem with the table car was that the seat didn’t have wheels (although it seemed to move ok) and wasn’t actually attached to the table. It was just a wooden dining chair. So I had to keep stopping the car and scooting back into the chair because the table was pulling me forward so I was sitting on the edge of my seat. I had my foot hooked up under something on the underside of the table to try and keep it all together.

Then I woke up.

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