Last Night's Adventure

Last Night's Adventure

I was giving my brother's friend (a teenage boy; this took place a long time ago) a ride home late at night. When we got to his house, we started arguing about something--I can't remember what. He bit my finger! I was so angry that I slugged him, got out of the car and walked away. After a while, I realized that I shouldn't leave the car with him, so I walked back. The car was gone and so was the kid. His creepy relatives were there, however, just hanging out in the driveway. I asked one of them, an ugly older man wearing a dark business suit, what had happened to the car. He said it had been moved to a parking lot up the street and offered to walk with me to it. It turned out that the "parking lot" was actually the enormous underground parking garage for a huge nightclub, the outside of which was covered with glowing signs and neon. (The "signs" were blank, however.) We went inside, to the club's office, which had red walls and garish furniture, like a Hollywood whore house. An old woman in a white fur-lined bathrobe, who seemed to be in charge, told us where to find the car in the garage. When we went down to the garage, however, there had been a fire and all the cars had been destroyed. I woke up. (A variation on the anxiety dream, I guess, directed by my internal David Lynch.)
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