Attack of the Killer Mini Squirrels
The setting of the dream is at my house in the middle of the night. Espresso Toast was there and she, Doc and I were scrambling to see who would get to use the bathroom first (Doc won). I was planning on driving Ms. Toast to work in my VW Jetta, which, incidentally, I sold last summer. So, we start driving and we were talking and, as I am wont to do when talking and driving, I got lost. At first, I thought I was going the wrong way down our street so I turned around. We kept driving and the landscape became more foriegn, almost Pennsylvanian, brick buildings, turn-infested narrow streets. As we were driving, I noticed a trouble indicator that was new to me. It was about 3 inches in diameter and it was a very small plasma monitor in full color. Unfortunately, I didn't understand what the little harbingers of doom stood for.
Finally, I decided to stop and ask directions. We pulled into Pike Shopping Center, a very Pittsburgh establishment. It looked like an old Kaufmann's inside. It was very busy for 6:00 a.m. There were two sleepy looking customer service representatives yawning as they sat at a card table covered in a random display of brochures and credit card applications. I asked one of the ladies, both of whom were in red velvet and wearning santa hats at rakish angles, if they knew where Silsby Road was.
The lady on the left yawned and said, "I don't know where that road is."
I said, "You are pretty busy for this early in the morning."
"We're kicking off Christmas," she yawned, "Why don't you check with the ladies in the jewelry department; they usually know how to find their way around."
They did. We headed out the door and were making our way to the Jetta. As we were crossing the inexplicably vacant parking lot (my car was the only one), a young, black man was walking towards us at an angle; eyes on the horizon. I tried to step out of his way since he made no effort to change his course and bumped into him, hooking the sleeve of my shirt on the button of his coat. We separated eventually, I apologized and he said, "'S'all right," and moved along.
We got into the car as the sun was just creeping up. It was that time of morning when everything seems tinted blue. As I put the key into the ignition I looked up and what to my wondering eyes should appear? At about 2:00 on the steering wheel there sat a 4 and a half inch tall squirrel. It was very still, but staring me right in the eyes. I asked Ms. Toast, "Is it real?" As soon as I spoke, the little bugger leapt at me with the speed and fury of Bruce Lee. I was able to react in time to bring my right had up to my face and stop him from going for my eyes. He clung to the fleshy part of my palm under my pinky. I must have shook him six or seven times until he flew out of the window, where I watched him to be sure I hadn't killed him. He scampered away and my car stalled.
I was able to get it started by turning the key again and willing the engine to move us. The engine didn't turn over but we started moving. Eventually the hum of the engine kicked in as we made our way down Silsby Road on a bright, early autumn day.
Edited to Add: By the way, I wanted to mention that Ms. Toast didn't seem to say much (which is so not like her) in this dream. For the most part, she was silent, but I could sense the wheels in her head turning, wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into. However, she is too well-mannered to come out and say what a flaky nutcase I am.