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Writer's pictureThe Dreamweaver

Eddie and Me | The Dreamweaver

Updated: Jan 13, 2021


I met up with an old friend, Eddie,* while driving in my yellow MGB convertible and he suggested we go somewhere and have a few laughs and yack up old times. Eddie said he had to go home to get his convertible and we agreed to meet at square in a posh neighborhood in town. Eddie showed up in sleek, silver convertible with right-hand drive. I'd never seen a car like that before and when I looked at the back of the car, I noticed the brand written in cursive writing but it was unfamiliar to me and the writing was indiscernible. Eddie signaled for me to follow him and we began driving through the city's bustling mid-day traffic, weaving in and out of the slower-moving traffic. We came to a traffic light and Eddie pointed at the steep road in front of us and when the light turned green, he sped off, crossing the street and began to drive up the steep road in front of us. I followed Eddie to the top where he was exhilarated and keen to drive back down and drive up again, even faster than the first time. We waited at the traffic light and when the light turned green, Eddie's car died and he struggled momentarily to start it up. When he finally managed to turn over the engine and begin his descent, the traffic light turned red and I was stranded at the top. I watched Eddie as he made his way down the road and noticed he was picking up speed as the traffic light at the bottom of the street had turned yellow, and by the time Eddie reached the intersection, the light had turned red. He made it through the red light unscathed, but when he reached the other side of the intersection, he hit something in the road and the car flipped end over end, landing on its roof. Eddie emerged from the wreck below and flashed me a thumbs-up gesture.


Then I woke up. *I met Eddie as a young boy as my great-grandfather and his grandfather were friends from the "old country." Later on, Eddie and I attended the same summer camp in Lake Delton, Wisconsin, and the same high school in Chicago. While we were never friends, per se, the bond between our grandfathers made our relationship feel almost family-like, though we never really became more than acquaintances.




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