(10/9/09) broken down spare car

(Entered in paper journal at 9:28 AM at Red Horse cafe in Brooklyn.)

Dream #1

I had to take my car to the garage to get worked on. I walked into the front area, which looked like the interior of a shed or a concrete floored cabin.

My dad was the mechanic. He sat at a thin, metal desk, something that looked more like a tall toolbox being used as a desk, with an old computer on top of it. I told my dad it was nice to see him. My dad gave me the keys to a spare car. He told me that my car would be ready later on.

I took the spare care and drove down a road which was apparently part of a square circuit of road. I drove counter-clockwise around the circuit. The road was full of desert sunlight, sunglass-yellow, and flanked with business signs and places like car sales lots. I now saw a few amusement parks. I was eventually driving straight through an amusement park, with the road flanked by individual rides or clusters of rides.

Down the road, on my right, I saw an amusement park called Cosplay Land. I thought I might like that. It looked completely deserted, and also looked like it only had only ride. I saw a couple other amusement parks to my left, as well as, possibly, some fast food restaurants. I wondered what people would think of me if they saw me going into Cosplay Land.

Now I stopped the spare care and got out -- possibly because the spare car had broken down. As I walked a ways down the road I saw a cop standing beside a stopped car, talking to the driver, who was still seated in the car. Everything on either side of the street felt to me like scrapyards.

As I passed the cop and car I wondered why the cop had stopped the driver. It may have had something to do with identification, proof of being owner of the car, I thought. There was a lot of trouble going around nowadays with that stuff, I thought.

I was happy I was no longer in the spare car, so I didn't have to deal with any troubles cops might give me about producing proof that I was legally driving the spare car. But I was sure that, after whatever preliminary troubles I'd have to go through with the cops, I'd be able to prove that the spare car was my dad's and that I wasn't driving it illegally.

Then I suddenly realized that I hadn't given my dad the keys to my own car! I'd have to walk all the way back to the garage and give my dad the keys. The time for my car to get fixed would now obviously have to be pushed back. I wasn't likely to have it back by this afternoon, as I'd previously thought I would. When would I be able to have my car back? How soon?

I walked into the garage, possibly after having trudge through a snow-covered mountain path. My feet were soaked, and I dreaded having to walk back out onto that path again.

I gave my dad my car keys. I told my dad I'd see him soon. I told him something like I was sorry I hadn't seen him over the years, and that I was sorry I'd only seen him now by accident because I'd needed someone to fix my car. I did feel bad. But mostly I just said all this stuff because I didn't want my dad to ruin my car out of bitterness that I hadn't spoken with him in all this time.

My dad said he would have my car ready soon, and that after I had my car, he'd make sure to call me so that we could spend time together. He, also, hadn't made an effort to see me. My dad asked me how the spare car was.

I may now have been walking away from the garage. I thought to myself, I hope that my dad never finds out I got all the way here without having used the spare car. I also reflected that the reason I'd gotten out of the spare car in the first place was that I'd thought it had broken down. I thought with dread of what my dad would do when he found out his spare car was broken.