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In Hot Pursuit | The Dreamweaver

Updated: Jan 13


I took one of the girls—a baby in the dream—to pick up pizzas for lunch.


There was a lot of confusion and misunderstandings with the guy who owned the restaurant (something like this actually happened this week) and at one point asked if I wanted the anchovies on the pizza or on the side, and when I reminded him that he knew we were vegetarians, he said it wasn’t for our pizzas, but for the bagel the baby had ordered (my “real life” children devour about a dozen “real life “bagels a week!).

I told the pizzaiolo that he shouldn’t have listened to the baby but apologized and told him I’d pay for the bagel and the anchovies anyway. He thanked me and told me that he’d give us a free can of Coke and a discount the next time we came in. The total of my order was 9 euros and I paid with coins. Because the carry out bag was quite large and full, he accompanied us to the car and helped put the bag in the back seat, securing it with a seatbelt. The baby said she’d walk home since there was no room for her with me and the food in the back seat.

The pizzaiolo closed the door and as the car began slowly driving down the street, I suddenly realized I was still in the back seat and no one was driving the car.


Seeing the baby walking along the side of the road, I called to her and opened the door, getting out and putting her in the back seat to hold the bag while I ran alongside the car, managing to open and jump inside the passenger seat and scooting over behind the wheel taking control of the car just as it reached an intersection.


Then I called my brother to tell him I picked up the food and asked him how long it would take him to get to his house. He said he had just left the park and was on his way. Thinking I might be able to meet him along the way, I took a detour and low and behold saw my brother turn onto a side street two cars ahead of me. I sped up and eventually got behind my brother’s car causing him to speed up as he apparently didn’t recognize me in the car behind. Finally, it turned into a high-speed chase as I assumed my brother finally saw it was me in pursuit. But as we took a sharp corner, my brother’s car swerved out of control, throwing him from the vehicle and onto the street.


I pulled over and saw that he was okay but quite shaken up and he had torn his jeans at the knee. At first, he was quite angry with me, but once he came to senses and saw that no real damage had been done, we got back into our cars and drove off.


We made it back to his house where I parked in front of his garage and walked in to find it immaculately clean and well organized and to my surprise, he had a vintage, two-tone beige and brown, 60s-era Dodge Charger in the garage he said he had just restored.


A group of people who were walking by looked into the garage to admire my brother’s car and asked me what kind of car I drove. I pointed to the blue sports car I had parked on the street but told them that, despite my car being worth nearly 100,000 dollars, my favorite car was one I had owned years ago, an inexpensive, yellow 1980 MGB convertible. One of the young women asked if that model had chrome or rubber bumpers. Impressed by her knowledge of MGBs, I told her she could see for herself and I pulled out my cellphone and showed her a picture of me and my MGB.


Then I woke up.

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