Springtime in Ashland

I was visiting my friend Rob in Ashland.  The Ashland I see in my sleep has been penned onto my subconscious map; as such, it's never much like the Ashland of reality and always much like the Ashland of previous dreams.  I know I could venture out and go to other places that are on my map, and yet I rarely bother from there.  It's such a lovely little place, why would I leave?  It was spring time, and Rob had a lot of things to do, so I wandered the streets.  I found myself at the bottom of a hill, where the narrow road curved sharply near a string of businesses where I had, in a dream from long ago, been asked to join a drug smuggling ring while I suffered from a debilitating cold.  Right there, flowering trees were in full bloom, and pink blossoms exploded like popcorn from twiggy, otherwise bare branches.  I buried my face in their soft petals.  I loved them.  

A barely-known acquaintance invited me into a bar for a drink, and I accepted.  As we drank and talked, a young girl, no more than 22 at most, approached us to ask for advice on using a pregnancy test.  I was willing to help, but I didn't understand the thing she handed me one bit.  It was like a calculator, flashing all sorts of random words and numbers across its screen, none of which remotely resembling what I expected (pregnant or not pregnant).  The bar tender came over to help, also to no avail, although he seemed quite confident that it was working just fine.  I never learned whether or not the girl's womb was occupied or vacant; I don't believe it would have ever been clarified.  I was becoming aware of the fact that I was dreaming, and my thoughts had been influencing the situation so much that I felt it was becoming dishonest and convoluted.  She would be alternately excited or distressed about the idea of being pregnant based upon what I expected of her, and I knew I was somehow disturbing the test results.  I could feel the power of my brain reaching out and mucking things up.

It was night when I went outside, and I proceeded to have my second drunk-driving dream of the past two weeks.  Despite that I'd had less than one beer, I careened through the night recklessly in an attempt to get back home.  I didn't even make it out of town.  It was all I could do to get the car to pull off behind a grocery store.  I left it there, knowing I would crash or hurt someone should I keep trying.  I walked back to Rob's to stay another night.