Dream car

Vehicles have been on my mind. Last night I dreamed I inherited a Cadillac show car from the 1950s. Dusty rose with maroon leather interior. A bubble top. A strange Dutch door system where one handle opened the whole door and another handle opened just the upper half.

I sat in the back seat thinking, “This is cool and amazing and beautiful, but what am I going to do with it?” Then I realized the car was huge. The interior was wider and longer than the Rolling Steel Tent. “I could live in here. Hell, the trunk alone could hold most of my stuff.”

I pictured myself driving it into the boonies. It would get dirty, maybe scratched. Could it handle rough roads without shaking apart? I thought about the ethics of using/misusing a one-of-a-kind show car like that. 

Would the Caddy’s low ground clearance limit where I could go? To answer me, the car rose two feet on air suspension, then eased all the way onto the ground. Ah, okay. Then, to answer a question I had never had, it rose again, leaving behind a tiny go-kart sized car styled sort of like a Karmann Ghia. The Cadillac carried a spare car?

I woke up. For the next hour or so I contemplated whether I really could live comfortably in a big old real life sedan. I decided not.