Of Dreams and Driving

Since we're on the topic of dreams (well, two posts ago)...

Since as far back as I can remember, I've had recurring dreams about losing control of a vehicle while driving. (I suppose these should properly be called nightmares, but I don't consider them as such.) Most of them followed the same pattern: I, the unlicensed passenger, am sitting behind the wheel while the driver leaves the car running, and sometimes in gear (more times than not, it just shifts unexpectedly and inexplicably). The car (it was always the old, navy Celebrity we used to have) begins to move forward and I can only steer and hope to evade other cars and stop signs as I can't stop the car, only slow down. Or, sometimes, the brakes have gone out completely. I usually crashed into the nearest non-fatal looking object I could find after a long, relatively uncontrolled escapade through town.

The last dreammare I had like this was late this spring, before I began driver's ed. It was much more detailed than most of the others, set in particular (high-traffic) streets, with police following and no brakes. I ended up practically crawling back to Fred Meyers where I had left my parents with the police trailing close behind, the sky black against the parking lot lights. The car ran out of gas just before I crashed into the building. It was quite depressing, really.

Since I started driving, I haven't experienced any more of these dreammares, which I'm glad of. There was a point when this subconscious fear became almost wholly irrational. I remember last fall, my friend left her car door open as she went to go inside to grab something; I went to sit down behind the wheel because of the chilly day, had a flashback to my latest dream, and nearly screamed. It was ridiculous. My parents remain firm, however, that I am not blocking any memories from a traumatic childhood car ride. I don't really think I am, either, but it would certainly make a good Dear Abby letter.

"Dear Abby,
My parents have hidden a terrible secret from me my entire life. When I was three and a half, we went out for a nice Sunday afternoon drive. Then the brakes went out, and..."

Eh, oh well. Abby receives enough mail, I suppose.