By the way, excuse the stream of consciousness writing of today . . . .
I was driving down the hill near our house. I was in the Suburban. All the kids were with me. And for reasons I can't explain, I was driving and MOTH was in the passenger seat. We were driving in the right hand lane and pulled up next to a stop light. In the lane next to me was a man who was driving an invisible car. He was white with a scruffy beard, kind-of thin and wearing a lumberjack red checked flannel shirt. At the stop light, we made eye contact, exchanged a pleasant smile and when the light turned green, we were both on our way.
Except, he was driving an invisible car and he could really run fast . . . so when he pulled forward, he was on superhero-slash-comic wheels that just go in a circle, like on Tom & Jerry or Looney Tunes when the Roadrunner goes really fast. Then suddenly, we was in the right lane and we were in the left lane and he was shooting at us and tipping his head back with a very evil cackle. Meanwhile, MOTH was sitting in the passenger seat with his gun safe in his lap yelling, "I can't remember the combination!!" Crazy flannel checked superhero wheels guy was continuing to shoot at us and I was driving like an action movie star, speeding up to avoid a bullet then slamming on the brakes to avoid another. Little was shouting from the back how awesome everything was, and the girls were laying on the floorboards to dodge bullets. Big was soothing Mimi. And then Crazy pulled his action wheels in front of us and I ran over him with the car.
There was a thump.
And then we went on but I turned back to see if he was alive. The turn around happened just as MOTH finally got the gun safe open and shot him in the knee. Why knee? I don't know. But in that moment, he looked like John Reese from Person of Interest and he was even wearing a suit. Curious.
Crazy was laying in the street and people were gathering around him. And as we looped back around to see, he stood up and started chasing us AGAIN! Despite being plowed over by the Suburban and shot in the leg, he started chasing us again . . . .
And I woke up yelling, "Do you think he got our license plates?"
Aren't dreams crazy?