I had this dream when I was about 12 or 13 years old.
I dreamt I was a young child, of 7 or so, and I was walking down a long road in summertime. It was quiet and peaceful, and there was no one around but me.
In well worn jeans, with rips at the knees, a plain black t-shirt and classic black and white Chuck Taylors, I walked at a normal pace down the center of this road.
Both sides of the road were filled with stalks of corn, taller than I could see over, and I could hear a soft breeze rustling their leaves, and the skittering of insects unseen among them.
I remember the dream felt tranquil. I didn’t know where I was, but I somehow also knew that where I was didn’t matter.
I didn’t know where I was walking to, but forward seemed like as good a direction as any, and I didn’t seem to have anywhere else to be.
So I walked along, happy and calm, and just stared at everything around me in the warm summer sun.
Suddenly, in the distance, I saw a glint of light bouncing off of something shiny.
I continued to walk along as it came my way.
As it got closer, I could hear an engine, and realized it was a truck of some sort. Slowly getting bigger and bigger as it came closer. It was on the proper side of the road, but driving in reverse. Which seemed both odd and apropos at the same time.
As it got nearer, I saw that it was a late model truck, much like the one from Sandford & Son, only brand spanking new and polished to a gleaming Robins Egg Blue.
It continued drawing nearer and nearer, still driving in reverse as if it was supposed to, and started to slow as it approached me.
When it got along side me, it stopped, and a man with a wild head full of hair, and goat horns that curved back from his forehead, just under a ratty cowboy hat grinned at me with a mouth that had far too many teeth. He bore a striking resemblance to Ernest Borgnine as Satan in the 70’s movie “The Devil’s Rain”, only somehow both friendly and handsome.
“Hey kid!” He said, a wet and gnawed toothpick dangling from his lip precariously, “Which side of the middle of the road do YOU walk on?”
He asked the question with a laugh, but it had an air about it like the answer had meaning, like it had weight, like it MATTERED.
I looked at him, and then down at the yellow painted line on the road between my pristine Chuck Taylors.
“Whichever side I’m standing on, I guess.” I said to him.
He let out a raucous laugh and hollered, “Now THAT’S a good answer! Best one all day!”
He put the truck back in gear, and reversed away from me down the road.
I watched him until the truck became a speck and until the speck disappeared.
And then I tuned and continued walking.
(to this day, I’m still not sure what this dream meant.)