Walking
through snowy streets and avenues I notice it’s not that cold outside. I may even be barefoot. Just ahead is a house that looks familiar so
I approach the driveway. The driveway
curves gently upwards and at the top of it is a house made of dark, unstained
wood. There is a party happening in the
driveway with familiar classmates from my video classes at SAIC. One of them is shirtless and he’s no longer
lithe and wiry but muscled and tattooed.
Another person is someone I recognize and she greets me.
The scene
shifts to a highway that runs through mountain-like hills covered in lush green
grass. Some of the grass is perhaps dry,
raised by soil, or cut down to the soil, which produces serpentine light sienna
ribbons across the hills. I’m in a car
with a friend of the family from decades past.
We’re to meet my father at the top of the hills so she drives off the
highway and up the grassy hills. One
thing stands out. Grading at an incline
of at least 70 degrees this hill is one that only a mountain goat would casually
maneuver. So she pushes the accelerator
to the maximum. Near the top the car
starts to slide down the hill. She
announces that she needs to change gears.
After doing that the car finally groans a little over the top.
Atop,
the plateau is also grassy but it is very uneven. She winds across it, sometimes even close to
the edges. It is a pretty place but it is
still the realm of sure-footed mountain goats.
Surprisingly there is a glossy, evergreen car parked on the plateau. Within the logic of the dream presumably it
is my father’s though he’s never owned a Ford Gran Torino, the same car from
Starsky & Hutch, the 1970’s television show. Because of the height the grass of the hill
is dark compared to the airy, nearly pastel scenery below.
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