Kind of underwhelming so far, but it's early days.
If you put any credence in the first dream of the new year, 2011 is going to be ... weird. I dozed off not long after midnight, missing the final couple of minutes of Kentucky's win at Louisville and leaving "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" lying unread next to me. For some reason, I was cruising around an inordinately large parking lot while apparently trying to buy a car. The place I ended up choosing had a familiar salesman -- Jake, a former friend and employee at the Bellevue BP station -- and he was determined to sell me what he said was a Chevy Camaro but was chopped down to the size of a Mini Cooper. I distinctly remember the speedometer only going up to 15 miles per hour, though he assured me its actual top speed was 65.
This is where things get a little weird. A young woman took over the sale, and I felt for all the world like I'd known her for years, even though her face is now a blur in my mind. Of course, I'm better with names than faces anyway. I asked her how I would know how fast I was going if the speedometer only went to 15 and only received a sheepish grin in return, but the whole car deal isn't the important bit. I'm still picking through my mental Rolodex in search of a name to go with said young woman. What I remember of her doesn't ring any bells among the people I know from college or my working life. It could be high school, but I remember pretty well the people with whom I regularly associated. One person -- Chelsea, a girl two grades behind me -- comes to mind, but she doesn't quite fit. The name Michelle Williams comes to mind, but I should be so lucky to run in those kind of circles.
Oh well. I guess I'll just chalk this one up with the Aloha dream, the Invasion of the Damned and the one about being trapped in a K-Mart overnight with only a squirt gun to protect me from a bunch of lurking tigers.