There are times when you are having a dream you are at a place you know, but your mind has generated a scene that is nothing at all like that place is in waking life. But somehow, your brain still convinces you that you are in that place, even if it never had a bathroom in the garage. You just accept it as it develops in your dream. Twice in the same week, I had a very similar feeling in my waking life about places I have gone through a thousand times.
I took an Uber to an event, and we drove along a section of town that I drive all the time but don't have the freedom to actually look around. It's like when you're having a dream about a place, but it isn't that place, but your brain is convincing you it's that place, except in this case, it really IS that place and it's horribly confusing but also kind of neat. Not that it was a nice area or anything... Abandoned lots half-assedly paved with weeds poking through the empty foundations and such... And lots of BBQ joints crammed into building that were probably formerly dental offices. You might know the kind of place.
I took an Uber to an event, and we drove along a section of town that I drive all the time but don't have the freedom to actually look around. It's like when you're having a dream about a place, but it isn't that place, but your brain is convincing you it's that place, except in this case, it really IS that place and it's horribly confusing but also kind of neat. Not that it was a nice area or anything... Abandoned lots half-assedly paved with weeds poking through the empty foundations and such... And lots of BBQ joints crammed into building that were probably formerly dental offices. You might know the kind of place.
Then on a recent Monday, I was able to mosey into work a little later than usual. I merged onto a bit of interstate I go on at least twice a day, usually five days a week, sometimes more and sometimes less. It’s a segment that has been undergoing some manner of reconstruction every day I have drive in it in the past 2 3/4 years, so I have always had to be on my toes for out-of-towners who wouldn’t be anticipating the sudden shifting or disappearing of certain lanes. But that morning, I was able to look around a bit, as there wasn’t another car heading my way as far as the eye could see. For the first time in my entire life, I was able to notice the housing addition whose backyards ran almost right up to the highway. Some had fences, but some homes were just relying on faith and a slight downgrade to protect their living rooms from stray semis and drunk drivers. It struck me as very sad that some people have to buy homes like that, and that never in my life had I noticed them.
But then I guess I have to cut myself some slack since my car time isn't my time to observe extraneous details and feel feelings about them. It's my time for me to get from one place to another via controlled explosions, trying not to ram or be rammed by other motorists. And it doesn't help my powers of observation that I'm always blasting some music, something chaotic like "Is It Raining In Your Mouth" and mentally (or sometimes orally) screaming "FIVE SWEATY FINGERS ON MY DASHBOARD, FIVESWEATYFINGERSONMUHDASHBOARD, FIVE SWEATY FI-
FIVE- SWEAT- FING! GAH!!"
