My eye swept across a small sign stuck in the grassy median strip: Panic Contest. In the next moment of approach, I saw that it actually said: Fabric Outlet.
2. Of my age
I was driving a car in which the steering function and the throttle shared the same equipment, meaning that the curvier the road, the faster the car went. This was tiring, so I pulled off the road at an open, park-like field.
I sat on the grass and watched some gathering storm clouds of kitchen utensils. A sudden wind caught the clouds and whipped them toward the west, driving spatulas and spoons across the sky. By some trick of perspective, they were much lower and larger than they first appeared.
A giant soup dipper crashed into the second floor of a nearby house, bowl-first, smashing out a wall. The handle ripped open a first-floor sun porch before the wind caught the utensil and swiveled it around the house to join the others.
I laughed at the absurdity, and noticed that some teens walking by had seen it, too, and were laughing.
“That’s nice, that kids today can see the humor in something simple and silly like that,” I thought.
I woke soon after, smiling, this time at myself, for dreaming in language like "kids today."
