“Faster Meg, Faster!”
I dreamt I was in an old, creaky house, flirting with my old high school girlfriend Meg. We were raucous and silly and strange. (just as we WERE, really – we were kinda the art high school power couple). There were marionettes and there was glitter and overstuffed couches and scarves. We romped until the floor felt unstable (who knew her parents had built a covered pool in the Living room!) and so we retreated upstairs – but from the upstairs window we could see dozens of people coming through the gate and into the overgrown, verdant and whimsically unkempt yard. (I think my dream had melded Meg’s current backyard garden with her childhood house and smacked some Harry Potterness into the architecture for good measure)
I dreamt that we realized her parents had invited a vast crowd of extended family over for a reunion party of sorts and they were setting up tables and food and we wanted nothing to do with ANY of it.
Meg said “Let’s get out of here,” Winking, “I know where they’re racing today!”
I had no idea what she meant but we crept down a back stairway and out into the side yard where she had a beautiful, old, golden 1970’s Camaro. We pulled out of the weeds and roostertailed it on to the highway, fishing back and forth and speeding at an unholy velocity to a point on I-95 where she met up with all her racing friends (?!)… we drag raced about three other muscle cars and after losing for a third time Meg said “fuck this, DONUTS!!!” and I said “what?” and she pulled off onto another highway and spun the wheel and we’re both cackling and laughing and I’m screaming “FASTER MEG! FASTER!!!” and… that’s how I woke up, panting and filled with GLEE and not a small amount of fear for my personal wellfare… but in a good way.