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odd dream

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

I had a dream last night that a ne'er-do-well buddy and I stole a cement mixer or dumptruck or something. Everntually realizing that he wasn't going to make the turn he was attempting, my pal tried a skidding turn in the truck, and we were thrown off the road.

Strangely, this had the effect of throwing the police off of our trail. So we quietly waited for someone to find us. The scene of our crash changed from a semi-suburban area with small farm plots to a rugged semi-tropical mountainous road, and I was alone with the truck. While exploring the devestation around the truck, I discovered why my friend had really stolen the vehicle, and why there had been so many police in pursuit.

Tucked into a cargo rack on the side of the truck were The Important Documents. Then I knew what I had to do. I had to carry on alone with the papers, lest they fall into the hands of our pursuers.

Then I awoke.