In this dream I had
Where pixies where a sound track to the film… we were at a wedding reception in Florida of some sorts
And it was hot and we were all wearing shorts… I decided to steal a golf cart from the place where the wedding was taking place and you agreed. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, that if we could get that fucking golf cart back to the condo we were renting it would make a great fucking story to tell folks back in the real world when we were meeting new folks.
Shorts and flip flops and heat, drunk we started.. Took what we wanted, the golf cart and started driving down the street at 30 years old too drunk into the heat and mosquitoes…
Rationally I was already thinking about getting caught on some main street some main road, running all the numbers through my head, how I would react to the universe of limitless possibility…
What if we pass a cop?
What if we pass a person who calls a cop?
What if we crash
How would we explain this…?
So we pass a cop… that is what happens in the dream, we pass rationality… and I have it all thought out...
Fuck, we are fucked, you say, and I say, our only chance now is to run… and I take off, you stay a second but then follow… we are running through woods and all those hot Florida plants that cut at your ankles… my goal is to go where they don’t go… I find a large shed, or garage of sorts and we whole up in there for a second. Catching our breaths. We need to get out of here, you say, this is ridiculous, you say, but I convince you to stay because I have been here before. Cody Wes and I running from the law, we’re holed up… we could hear the cops driving down the roads… looking for us, expecting movement, looking for movement. How do you explain yourself then… it is like when you were a kid and imagined the worst things happening and you wanted to be an ant or something, something so small and just hide, like a Viet cong soldier as the large black GI’s combed the area with dogs that you have never thought about eating, hunting and looking for you…
We hide out in this garage for a bit, this house extension, this shed, and the cops search without mercy for our delinquency. We shouldn’t do these sort of things at 30 but I am planning on having a story to tell… we wait four hours and you want to hoof it out… I convince you that walking anywhere at 3am is bad news… we need extraction… that is how you do it military style. Extract from the place… we need to call a cab, I decide. We need a street, better yet we need someone to pick us up…. But where? you say… and I say. We are right next to tiffs old house. And you know we are… we call at 4am and Eric comes to pick us up and we have so many good stories to tell.
I am glad you listened to me, I can’t afford another arrest.