Fletcher and I were riding in the car this afternoon, and he told me about a dream he had where the car started rolling away with him buckled into his seat but with no driver. I was running along after the car trying to catch him, and I just kept running and running and running.
As he was telling me this dream, I had a sudden flash to an almost identical dream I used to have as a child. I can still see the door closing on our old, orange VW bus, my mother’s face on the other side of the window slowly slipping out of sight as the car started to roll, gradually picking up speed and going faster and faster and faster.
Crazy. This must speak to some sort of universal childhood fear. It was just so odd to her it coming out of my baby boy’s mouth, when the same dream is still so fresh in my mind. . .