Driving

So I had another dream. More dreams. Whatever. Same dream?

Amusement park type of thing with Dad. We were going to ride the XLR8 (which really was a ride at Astroworld–wow, flashbacks, no?) But he got a call that he had to go to the shelter (he really does work at a shelter). So he started to drive our little car off the track. (It was like one of those little cars you get to drive around the park)

We pulled up to the place–two young boys (don’t remember if they were my students in the dream, but they were later on).  They were sitting on the ground, against a car or something.

Dad got out to talk to the police officer guy (I think he got something from the glove compartment). I watched the boys. Their eyes got big and scared as they watched my dad talk to the guy. Turns out he pulled out a gun (not in a bad way) and he was cleaning it. He had turned some so I couldn’t really see it.

In real life, dad says driving dreams are really important. Like whose driving your life sort of thing. So I don’t know what all that means, yet.  It’s obvious about the students. The guns, coat hangers, cleaning guns, costume parties… I’m more at a loss.