This year, for the two year anniversary of Generation-High Output, I want to do something special. I am going to tell you a story about me and my car that happened not too long ago.
It all started with a dream I had about walking out of Metrocenter and having trouble finding my car in the parking lot. Just as I was starting to panic- fearful that someone had stolen it, a hand reached out from behind me and held an ether-soaked rag over my mouth.
When came to, I discovered I was locked in room that felt a lot like a store in the mall that had been cleared out and slathered in a gut-wrenching shade of pink paint. As far as I could tell I was alone, and the only other objects in the room with me were my car, which was now painted a darker shade of pink and sporting a vinyl top, and an easel holding a blown up photo of Wayne Newton. I remember that when I saw the photo, curiosity turned to horror and I promptly lost my shit, kicking at the gate holding me in my cell. But not before taking a picture of the room with my phone.
I realized I had to focus on my breathing and try to remain calm if I was going to climb my way out of this hell that had become my reality. I began to survey my surroundings, desperate to find an escape.
It was impossible to tell if the mall was open or if I was there after hours. I didn’t see any shoppers, but that wasn’t really any indication of whether the mall was open these days. I remember inspecting the metal gate, meant to keep shoplifters out, that was now keeping me caged in. The gate held impossibly strong despite my best attempts to kick it open. My heart sank as reality began to set in.
Unable to escape, I remember pondering whether or not starting my car would generate enough carbon monoxide in the room to put me out of my misery quickly. For some reason, crashing the car though the wall never occurred to me.
Just as I had lost all hope, I happened to glance at the gate that was holding me in the room just as it started to melt into a puddle on the floor. This being a dream, I didn’t really think twice about it. I left my car behind and walked out.
As I was making my way out of the mall, I had pretty much managed to convince myself that I was awake now, and the room with the car in it had been a dream. I was feeling okay about my life again when I went out to the parking lot. This time, I found the spot where I was sure my car should have been but in its place was a piss yellow Fox Body Mustang with a turbo lsx swap.
That’s about all I can recall. Next thing I know, I’m sitting up in bed, in a cold sweat, struggling to read the time on my phone with my glasses off. It was a dream within a dream. Everything was fine.
Later that I day I found some pictures on my phone. Everything is not fine. I’m currently checking out Yelp reviews for some local psychiatrists.
I’ll let you know how it goes.