No weird poetic references in last night's dream. No disturbing people telling me things in cryptic language. It was a rather straight-forward dream. My friend Shelby and I were driving up Interstate 5 through California's central valley. It was foggy as it tends to be this time of year and we couldn't much beyond the yellow line in the center of the road (in my dream Interstate 5 was inexplicably a two-lane freeway). Shelby is usually a talkative sort, but we drove in silence. I watched the steam curl up from the styrofoam coffee cup sitting in the holder.
I shoved a tape into the deck. It was The Grateful Dead, and we turned off the freeway at a Fresno exit while "Uncle John's Band" played softly. We parked in the empty lot of a truck stop. The neon sign glowed luridly. I admired the length and elegant lines of Shelby's neck. She stared out of the window at something I could not see. I grabbed her hand and we watched the sun come up, and a trucker come out of the stop eating a strawberry krueller and drinking coffee. A moment later, in some sort of mindless dream segue, we were back on the road
Shortly after, I woke up and briefly sketched down some of the more striking details.