I dreamed a lot, but I’ve been kind of feverish so most of my dreams I can’t remember. This is my nitemare, though.

My mom sold Bunbury, my car. She didn’t tell me she was selling it until after she had done it. The parking lot for K*Mart had turned into some kind of car outlet, with piles and towers of cars. My mom called me up and told me to meet her at “the lot”, which I immediately knew what it was. It was a little shack where the Chock Full o’ Nuts used to be (in reality, it’s still there). It was some sort of really inexpensive autorepair place. I came, kind of mad but sort of excited too. “You got me a new minivan?” I asked, excited. “No, I got you a car,” she said. I crashed. “Will it at least save me on gas?” “Yea, definately. It has a much better tank.” So I shrugged. If it would save me on gas, it couldn’t be that bad.

It was. It was a rust orange volvo, one of those boxy ones. It was way small and cramped. “Drive it!” my mom urged. So I pulled out into 347..

The acceleration was terrible. I’d step on the gas and it would slowly grind and go faster and faster very gradually. The brakes didn’t function properly either. They were kind of stuck, and resisted me as I pushed down on them. The result? I nearly rear ended people and got into close to 10 accidents as I made a small circle on 347. I jumped out of the car and started yelling at her. That she had to give this car back and get Bunbury, that this car wasn’t driveable and I would be killed for sure. She told me she didn’t have the money she got from Bunbury anymore. I starred at her aghast. Apparently when she sold Bunbury and bought this new thing, it cost a lot less and the money was gone. When I asked her what she had done with the money, she started crying and telling me what’s she’s been telling me every time I call. That she has so little money and I’m so demanding. That she doesn’t know what to do anymore and lecture lecture lecture. I started to cry too over the sake of my Bunbury being lost, and the injustice of it all.