On Friday, I awoke troubled by a dream. I normally awake feeling grumpy, because that’s my normal state in the mornings: grumpy. I’ve been a morning grump since I was little – you could say I am just not a morning person. But this morning I wasn’t grumpy: I was troubled by dream.
Despite not being able to drive, in my dreams I am often borrowing the car and zipping off places. In this particular nocturnal adventure, I had travelled to London for a job interview and returned to the car at night. It was late, there was no-one around and when I circled the car I noticed that all the tyres had been slashed. I then opened the car with the keyfob and got inside to find that the glove compartment had been ransacked and my holdall on the backseat upended and its contents scattered on the backseat.
Someone had broken into the car without making a mark and then locked it behind them. To make matters worse, as I reached to put the key into the ignition I found another key in the chamber. Examining the key, it was exactly the same as the one I had. Somehow, there were two keys and this mystery assailant had got into the car with it.
The car had been moved, but returned to the same spot and I sat there in the darkness, not being able to go anywhere with my property damaged by persons unknown who had easy access to my vehicle. In the dream, I sat there for what seemed like ages mulling over the events and trying to make sense of what had happened.
On awaking, I just didn’t know what to make of this scene that had been created by my own imagination. It was only until very later that night, when I was retelling the story to The Missus that its significance and relevance in my life fell into place, like pieces of a jigsaw.
It’s funny how the mind works, isn’t it?

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