Feb. 13th, 2006

entelein: (operator)
Not too surprisingly, I had a dream last night, long and involved and full of sensory blah blah, where I was driving my car around.

It was Spring in the dream, and a memory from my actual past invaded it to great effect: I was driving around in brilliant, sweet sunshine, the air balmy and perfect, the radio playing Queen's "Under Pressure."

That song happens to be the kind of song that is just so good that any cheap car radio can play it right, even with the volume knob firmly twisted in the "stupidly loud" direction. Feeling full of life and sadly saying goodbye to the car, I zipped around Chicago, not minding the smashed window with the warm breeze coming in. Someone was in the car with me, and I told stories about the car, about driving around, about the phases of my life I've experienced over the last 9 years. The sunshine was sweetly yellow and gave back bright color from every surface it touched - blue mailboxes, red stop signs. The air actually tasted sweet.

We couldn't find the body shop I was supposed to take the car, and then we re-checked the address. It was somehow on the South Side of Chicago now, instead of near Fulton Market like I originally thought. (in actuality, it is there, but the dream had me placing it somewhere in the south 70's, maybe at Pulaski. Weird. I want to say the number was 7005. Or, 7050.)

I woke up before we got there, to the ringing of the alarm. I feel sad, but lighter, today. Done and dusted, on to the next thing. Embracing the changes I can see the outlines of before they fully arrive.

This is our last dance
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under Pressure

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entelein

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