Last night I dreamt that Mitch, Jesse and I labored intensively to repair and clean my dirty, busted up old buick. We got all the dents out, washed, waxed, the whole nine yards -- I was so proud. Then Jesse had to move his car, which was, for some reason, right next to mine. In doing so, he accidentally rammed into the front of the car, completely destroying my light and taking off part of the front bumper. Mitch and I were aghast, but when Jesse got out of the car, he was laughing so hard he fell on the ground, where he continued to laugh until he peed his pants.
I woke up this morning thinking that this was a funny and ironic dream, but I'm not sure now whether I should wash and clean my car (like I had been planning,) or if someone is trying to tell me not to bother...
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