I don't often remember my dreams, so I'm not all that experienced with trying to interpret them. Anyone who can explain this to me, well, there's the
catbox right over there...
My father and I are cruising through the country in an old, beat-up pickup truck. He's driving, I'm riding shotgun. My seat belt is unusually restraining -- there are at least three straps and buckles, and I can't get out.
His window is open, and the cool air of a late summer evening flows through the car. For some reason, he sticks his head out the window, kinda like some dogs do.
Then "Edge" hits him in the face with a Personal Pan Pizza. Just like in some of those really old slapstick movies where someone gets hit in the face with a cream pie, except that it's a small pizza. Pepperoni, I believe. And it's delivered by a professional wrestler.
The cheese scalds my father's face; screaming in agony, he opens the door to the truck and bails out. I'm strapped quite securely in the passenger seat, and for some reason the truck begins to speed up.
The road takes a sharp curve, and I'm still dealing with the seat belts; the truck goes off the road. Just as it's about to become very friendly with a giant redwood, my dream freeze-frames (like the end of Thelma & Louise), and I wake up.