Saturday, March 6, 2010

Brake Failure

I had another car dream today; again an issue with brakes.

I'm driving a new sports car. The brakes get worse and worse. At one point I am picking up speed and realize I have to run into something in order to stop. I am approaching a red pickup and grab onto the front end (with my hands) to stop the car. Inside the truck are guys who work there, having their lunch. The place of business is a car shop. My car is wrecked.

At first I feel fortunate to have stopped there. The business is trying to get info to the insurance company in order to get them to approve a claim. They do more damage to the car to make it more significant to the insurance company. I'm uncomfortable with it. No one is listening to me. They are telling me that I'm too old for that car and they think I'm older than I am because of my driver's license, which is wrong.

I begin to feel VERY uncomfortable and the guys keep touching me inappropriately. I look at my clothes and I'm having trouble keeping my skirt from hiking up too short. I'm wearing a look that can only be described as hooker chic.

I'm beginning to protest and they begin to get nervous that I might get them in trouble. I realize that if they are not successful in their claim to the insurance company, it will be harder to get the work done and they've unnecessarily damaged my car. They smashed in the roof, as if I'd had a roll over, but that wouldn't make sense because the insurance company would question why I wasn't hurt.

It was closing time and everyone wanted to go home. They sent in a doctor to examine me. It was Mike somebody from high school, but he was crazy, crazy, crazy and was trying to put two foot long hemostats inside my nose! Someone positioned me under a mechanical, collapsing canopy, and trapped me inside it and lifted me up. I was stuck there all weekend. They let me back down on Monday.

On Monday, I was super pissed and demanded to call my lawyer. I needed his phone number and no one would give it to me. They handed me a phone without a dial; I had to connect through the switchboard. One person got a phone book and pointed to the attorney's phone number, but it was his mother's number. When I wanted to call it anyway, this person just kept insisting that I dial it, but there was no way to dial it.

I woke in frustration. What's up with these car dreams!?

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