Priceless Paintings from W7

I believe it happens to many, in various forms and variations, but I don’t think it has ever happened to me before:

The stupid camper van’s rotten breaks failed to break properly, as I drove down the hanging serpentines into some coastal town in the Cornwall. I pulled the handbrake, shifted into second gear and licked the break pedal through the floor as hard as I could, but the stupid truck would not slow down. Instead, it slowly increased speed, and there were another 3 or 4 bends to come.

I don’t know how the body manages to avoid the worst. After an almost fatal accident in one of the bends, where I could actually feel the van losing balance and was then certain that it would tip over in the next bend, I woke up.

I lay awake for at least half an hour, thinking about the options I had, whether the mechanic in that small costal town would replace the break pads, if the rental company would reimburse me for the break pad replacement, whether or how I crashed.

I have now had a shower and gained some distance from this night’s dramatic events, but honestly, I still feel a bit shaken. I hope not to make a habit of those dreams. I can do with whacky and surreal, but failing breaks? Not me.

Thoughts dreams