My family was in
Wyoming. I have absolutely no idea why we would be in that state, but 'tis the way of things with dreams. We'd rented a house in some unnamed small town, though we were only staying briefly. It was sunny and warm outside, mid-summer weather. For some reason, we had a blue
Cadillac that we had used to drive there. I stumbled out the door, keys in hand, hopped over the door like something out of a
cheesy movie from the 50s, turned the
ignition and just drove. Speeding out of the down, things soon past to dusty,
arid landscape. And then to straight-ahead desert, with
sand dunes and everything. I wasn't concerned, just driving without a care. This went on for hours,
monotonous scenery, an empty rode, and myself in the car, humming something.
Finally, the road came to an end in a dirt path. There was a large, dusty cliff that had suddenly shown up over the horizon. I turned my car in a sliding, screeching stop beside the cliff, grabbed a backpack from the backseat that I didn't remember putting there, slipped it on and tackled the cliff. Climbing took awhile, and it was hard, sweaty work, but I finally made it to the top. Looking over the area, I saw an interstate close by, obscured by the cliff from the ground, with cars rushing back and forth. Suddenly, I remembered I had to be home within an hour or so, only able to travel in a certain radius before it would take too long to get back. I scrambled down the cliff, jumped in the car, and put the pedal to the metal on my way back home.
I came back just in time, parallel parking my car along the small-town street. Two other cars stopped near mine, curiously. Stepping out from them were a group of childhood friends, one of whom was in fully army camoflouge gear. This I found curious, since I'd always assumed the pious boy would become a priest or a youth minister. He spent enough time at the local Lutheran church, anyway. Without a word, the group of friends grabbed me by the shoulders and arms, dragging me towards a house about a block from the one my family had rented. I protested mildly, but not too strenously; I was growing somewhat tired. Inside the empty house, they shoved me against a bare wood beam and tied my hands tightly. Still no eye contact, nor spoken word. One of them was winding up for a kick when I startled awake.
...
I really need to stop having these dreams starting off normally and ending poorly.