On Thunder Road with Bleeding Wrists

This past March we were in Freeville, along Fall Creek, to visit one of the last of the hipsters (more on this in a later post) who was talking to me about dreams and what we can learn from them, like reaching the great beyond, etc. I had my doubts. Still do. (Damn, he mentioned a book I can't remember at the moment). Nevertheless, I told him that I used to record my dreams as a twenty-something. Well, a few weeks ago, after recalling our conversation, I started again. My friend Charles in Louisiana has devoted blog posts on his midnight exploits which I always find fascinating. So I've decided to post some of mine here from time to time. An example of my journey into dreamtime from 7/31/13 in North Charleston, South Carolina, around 3:45 am:

I am sitting in a parked Honda Civic on a dirt road that heads up a hill on the George Junior Republic property in Dryden, NY. A group of  juveniles pull up behind me, making me nervous. The car won't start, but after a few tries, I manage to get it going and race away with the kids staying tight to my bumper. The cheap Hollywood scenery is sliding past like I'm Lucas Doolin roaring away on Thunder Road. At the hilltop, I make a fast right off the road to lose them ... Fades to: I pull into a reality show contest where I am told by the amiable African American host that I can win twenty bottles of the finest wine! But for my part of the contest (though there are no other contestants) both my wrists are slashed, and, if I remain standing for a length of time, I will win the wine. After bleeding buckets and buckets of red, I'm told to "place my wrists perpendicular" to stop the bleeding ... I wake up before I get the prize!

Usually, I can point to events, conversations, news articles or the like from the days beforehand to explain away certain aspects, but that takes the magic/mystique/crazy out of it, right? So I'll just post them as is. Any dreams you care to toss out, leave 'em here in the comments.