I’m riding in a pickup truck with my husband, late to an event at a country club restaurant. We’re riding in a pickup truck along a beach, blasting along with no time to spare. Burt Reynolds is driving, I’m sitting next to him, my husband is on my right. Where we need to go is up a long climb, up a bluff…or something that most resembles a cliff face but it’s got lawn. Greenery. It’s a country club, so we’re going to climb up their golf course. Burt downshifts so we get good traction as we start to climb from the beach. He’s grinning the signature “Smokey and the Bandit” grin as the truck slews around the sand. The lawn/sod/golf course is being churned up by the truck but it seems like all the emerald green is being rolled up as we go so it can be laid back down. The engine roars as we climb and Burt Reynolds is laughing as we top the cliff.
We slide to a halt in front of one of the club’s buildings.
This is a fragment of the night’s action adventure dreaming. I don’t wake from this, and I don’t remember what came after. I know a cat sleeps in the bed with me, and my retired sled dog is dreaming in his crate as I experience another action adventure in my dreamtime.