In the dream, I was walking past my car. It was parked in front of a school building. All of the doors were open, including the hatch, and the keys were sitting on the front seat. The car key was not the same as it was before. The ignition has been taped off with some sort of template, and the stereo is gone, replaced by a brass template stamped with the word “recycled.”
I closed all of the doors and windows.
I was confused and annoyed, because my car was supposed to be there for a general service which has nothing to do with the key or the stereo. I went inside to the service department, which looked suspiciously like the reception area outside the principal’s office in a grade school.
A service person walked by, and I asked him if he knew anything about what was going on with my car. He said that the lead guy mentioned that it was there because the stereo kept failing. I told him the stereo was fine, asked why the keys were replaced and he didn’t know. He took the new key out of my hand and said he saw a problem and while I tried to explain the the key was brand new and not mine, he got a huge power tool to replace a screw in the key fob. As he was kneeling down, someone opened the door next to him and knocked him over. He didn’t drop the key or lose any parts while he fell. I remarked that I was impressed by his ability to stick with a screw and he laughed.
He said he’d check with Ron about when my car would be ready. A friend tapped me on the shoulder and said he had saved me a seat in the waiting room, which looked a lot like a classroom. It had benches like pews instead of desks.
In the waiting room, we chatted. Suddenly, he shifted on the bench we we sharing so my hand was on his crotch and he kissed me in a way more than friendly way. A way I enjoyed immensely. Based on what I felt under my hand, he did as well. When we came up for air I whispered that he was crossing a line, and tried to move my hand. People were watching us. He put my hand back, kissed me again and mumbled something about not wanting to be in anyone’s pictures. I didn’t understand, but kissed back. He pressed my hand harder against him.
A mutual friend came up to us, put her hand on my shoulder and said “Facebook selfie! The dog will love this one!” and starting taking pictures of us with her phone.
And the kissing continued.
A man next to me asked me, in Persian, what “capably” means in English. I didn’t answer immediately because of the kissing, but my friend stopped and said I should answer because not answering was rude.
So I explained “capably”, and then got up to find out what was going on with my car.
The office wasn’t there anymore, so I wandered down hallways in the school. Each room had a pull down shelf outside of it, most of them contained mini-bars.
I never did find out why my stereo and keys were replaced. When I went back to my car, my friend was in the passenger seat waiting for me. Listening to music. I put the car in gear, and he picked up my hand, turned it over and kissed the inside of my wrist as we pulled out of the parking lot.
I woke up wondering why no one ever kisses the inside of my wrist and then fell back asleep wondering if there would be more kissing.
There was not.
Why not?
I like kissing…