Lorry Dream

Looking out the window. The house was my mon’s house, but the garage was Mr. Bridgeforth’s house.

I see a big, blue truck driving up, sideways.  The front two wherls are turned sideways, and the back two are off the ground.  This way, they pull right up into the driveway.

I get to the inside garage door in time to see the loading ramp fully extended.  It bumps into a rectangular folding table, the particle board kind, and then pushes back another inch, compressing/denting.

They deliver whatever it is (cannot see for some reason.)  Then, they backbup at an angle and mash into my Flex’s bumper.

“HEY!  WATCH OUT!”, I say.

The fork lift guy just says, “No Problem.”  It’s heavily accented in local Spanish, and with a big smile.

“Fuck you!  It is a problem!  Este auto es me babe! Me amo lo!”

“Ehhh.  Get a Suburban S.”

Then I woke up.

There was more Spanish but I am not as fluent as my dream self.


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