I had a bad dream last night. My father, who was alive, had gone missing. His car had turned up and I brought it to this shop which was also this kind of hidden base. It was like some fortress in a cave, but somewhere near Government Center.
Two guys who worked there walked me around the car, pointing out things that were slightly off. They could mean this or they might not mean that. Was less vehicular forensics than theoretical forensics but the signs became more and more convincing until they were overwhelming in a form of horror clarity.
One side of the car was a couple inches lower than the other, the car company's logo on the front was crooked. The floor on the passenger's side was dented like someone had been stomping on it. We kept walking around and the pointed out these signs.
The employees opened the glove compartment and there was a clear plastic bag that had what looked like blood and vomit in it. I thought that that my father had been choked to death and it was he who had stomped the floor and dented it as that was happening.
Another customer came in while I was there, interrupted and asked these random, insignificant questions. Car 101 type of stuff. But they couldn't wait. They had a query about air pressure and their tires, which seemed like far too basic an issue to merit bringing your car to whatever kind of shop this was, closed off from the general public.
The shop had these huge clear pipes into which employees fed fenders, tires, all manner of waste, and the pipes shot the contents off to the harbor. Someone made a joke about how they got rid of everything and no one was the wiser.
I left and called my mom that it didn't look good and we should prepare for the worst. A woman was staying with me--this person I dated about seven years ago. Upon her arrival, she'd left. Went to stay with her friend. Blew me off. Left her suitcase behind. There were curlers in it.
I texted her, because this was a big thing, and we were technically together, I thought I loved her in that way we do when someone checks certain boxes we find it hard to get checked, and we're that kind of lonely where we make decisions that aren't best for us rather than saying, "No, have faith, you will meet that right person, but this isn't she and you're going to have to be on your own a while longer yet."
But she didn't even return the text or take a call. My best friend was the only person I could get a hold of and the only person I spoke to in the dream besides the car shop guys.
Have a dream like that and when you wake up you're up.