Saturday, March 28, 2015
Bad Dream/Good Dream
Right in the middle of those 26 years, I enjoyed a reprieve when I lived in Maine for about a year. I was actually awarded a license by the state, which was suspended by the court about a week later. But, I went on a little adventure to the state capital, got an interview with a bureaucrat, got the license back, then moved to New Hampshire, where the license became legally invalid after 90 days.
Blah blah blah on and on.
To sum up my irritating saga, be it known that I have now had a valid New Hampshire driver's license for over five months.
My personal satisfaction--my denouement--came to me in a dream the other night:
I was in a resort town somewhere on a side street scratching my car key on the ground. An uncle of mine, suddenly appearing as a young man, accompanied by his son and a friend, approached me and informed me that I was about to be arrested and taken to jail for driving without a license, that they were here to take me to none other than the prison for terrorists at Guantanamo Bay.
I took a fighting stance, threatened them and vowed that they would have to take me by force--and it would not be pretty. Unwilling to commit themselves, they decided to go for a walk around the colorful town to see the sights. They would come back later.
Parked in this backstreet was an antique car, something resembling an old Model A Ford, which they would use to take me away. I crawled into the front seat and saw--close up--the keys dangling from the ignition. Ah-ha!
I started the car and tested the old brakes on the sloping street. The car was a dusty old piece of junk, not well preserved, but it worked, and all I had to do was take a right to get on the main strip. At the corner, I had a great thought: I would drive down the strip and see my uncle and his companions walking along as I glided by, and I would beep the horn, laughing at them. I could just imagine their jaws dropping. Love it!
I woke up from the dream happily, and I was still smiling as I sipped my second cup of coffee.
So--I think those 26 years prove one thing: I must be one dam good driver to dodge the authorities for all that time, when lots of people, including a few lawyers, predicted that I'd end up in jail. Ha!