Baby, you can’t drive my car

I dream a lot but mostly only remember bits and confused pieces of unbelievable dreams in which I figure as the hero, saving babies and fleeing across rooftops.
But last week I remembered a piece of a dream where my sister and I were battling a would-be thief while waiting for the police who never arrived. (They really need to improve those response times in Dreamland Minnesota.)
That was pretty realistic but unsettling because the dream didn’t get to proceed to a victorious ending. Even in my dreams, I think of myself as a winner.
Last night, I dreamed a mostly coherent adventure about the theft of my Toyota Yaris. It wasn’t entirely believable since we found the car, but it did have a happy ending.
In this dream, I am working the night shift at the Tribune with my friend Mare. We met in a journalism class at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire. Mare ended up teaching English, except for her starring role in this dream where she appeared as the night city editor. I was playing the supporting role as the night reporter.
It was a slow night so she let me go early, because Mare is great like that.
But when I walked out the door, I was in front of the main branch of the La Crosse Public Library where I had parked my car.
Only it wasn’t there.
So I ran back inside and the library transformed back into the Tribune, which is located conveniently close to the Cop Shop. And with a quick call to the cops, an investigator and I were once more magically transported outside the library where my car was still missing.
But when I clicked my key, we could hear it. That’s really strange because I have one of those remote keys that flash lights but don’t make any sounds.
So we followed the sounds to a couple of houses where this savvy policeman discovered my key was making inanimate objects beep. The one thing they all had in common was that they had been purchased a few weeks ago at my vintage sale. (I apologize to any of my customers who were startled by a visit from the police.)
We finally ended up at the American Legion where a guy dressed as Spiderman was giving a speech. When I clicked the key, Spiderman beeped. He bounded from the room but the cop put out an APB on the car and caught both Spiderman and my Yaris a few blocks away.
The moral of the dream is that I’ve been pondering trading in the Yaris for a Subaru. It’s the car I owned before switching to the Yaris and I liked that car so much that when I traded it in I felt like the girl who ditches her boyfriend only to realize he was the best boyfriend she ever had.
In real life, it’s too late to go back to the boyfriend.
But in my life, I think I’ll go back to a Subaru next summer.
Just try to get your web-laden hands on that car, Spiderman.

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