Last night I dreamed I bought a Porsche.

A brand new, expensive, shaped-like-a-stealth-bomber, bright white two-seater doorless slide-in-the-top-Dukes-of-Hazard-style Porsche. I was in New York. I somehow bought it without actually even seeing the car or the model of the car I was buying. After signing all the paper work I went out to the lot with my brother and took it for a test drive. As I slid behind the wheel, I had immediate buyers’ remorse. I felt stupidity at having made such an expensive purchase without even seeing the car. I felt shame at the opulence at having spent perfectly useful money on a brand new Porsche. I felt like an idiot for buying a white car. And a two-seater, no less! I felt silly wondering where the hell I was going to park this thing in Manhattan.

I summoned up my courage and I went back inside the dealer and tried to back out of the deal, chancing upon my friend and guitar teacher Alec doing the same thing for a van (a much more practical purchase in the first place). I overcame the opposition and disappointment of the salesman by citing a New York State Law (which I’m not sure is real) about the ability for a consumer to exit a contract within a certain time period.

Maybe I’ll do some dream analysis later on. Bizarre.