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I remember that I had a strange dream last night.

I dreamt that Zeno and I were riding our bikes around the neighborhood. This neighborhood was a cross between somewhere in Juneau and somewhere in South Seattle. We decided that we were gonna go to a bar nearby and so we did. The bar ended up looking a lot like Velo Bike Shop, as far as the layout was concerned.

So we were in there for a little while, playing pinball and having beers, when we decided it was time to leave. On our way out, I notice something weird was going on with my non-driveside crankarm. It felt like it was loose and it was clunking around on each pedal stroke. The weird thing was that I knew I had one-piece cranks, so that should have been impossible. But it’s Dreamland, so anything goes. So I looked down to see what was happening when I realized that I was on somebody else’s bike and HOLY SHIT, we gotta go back and get my bike dude! I then realized that I’d left my vest and backpack at the bar too. Oh man, I hope they haven’t been swiped!!!

So Zeno and I headed back to the bar to retrieve my stuff, and here’s where the full Dreamland stuff kicks in. I knew I needed to go back to the bar and swap out this weird, crappy bike for mine and get my pack and vest, so here’s how that took place in my dream.

All of a sudden I was in a truck, trying to back it into the driveway that was next to some house. There were cars parked all over the place and it was a tight fit, and I was trying to get parked so that I could sneak into the house and get my stuff, and then sneak back out and leave without alerting anybody inside to my presence. I knew the main entrance to the house was open, and whoever was inside (the folks that I didn’t want to talk to or interact with for whatever reason, even though they were either family members or tight friends of mine) was watching TV, so I was being extra very quiet…

But the dog knew I was there and started to whine and wag its tail and was generally getting all excited that I was there, thus jeopardizing my mission. In my dream, the dog was Pimba (a buddy’s dog in real-life), but it wasn’t the same breed. Pimba is an Australian Cattle dog and this was a big furry Husky/mutt mix that was shedding a LOT of fur after the winter. But it was still Pimba, and dammit, she was gonna give me away! So there I am, trying to stealth-park the truck while she’s whining and trying to jump into my lap in the cab and shit just ain’t working.

And that’s how it works in my dreams quite often. Much metaphor going on… Somehow the action of backing a truck into a driveway and sneaking my backpack out of the house while folks are watching TV is a parallel for me getting back to the bar and retrieving my bicycle and my backpack. AND my precious vest that says ‘Chewy’ on it.

I don’t understand it any better than you do.

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