I just woke from a dream where the land behind my parents' house was solid ice and snow. It was the middle of the night in the dead of winter. My father wanted me to race down- which I did, no problem- even though I never skied in my life. No one else was there. I trudged back up the hill by walking up Lyons Rd., in the snowy gutter, with cars whizzing by me, my skis over my shoulder.
When I got to the top of the hill, it had a locked gate. I explained I was here to race. My skis were now gone, and so was my digital camera, (I had no reason why, but it was important at the time.) I resignedly took the camera for a loss and asked if I could borrow skis. The dream quickly degenerated into a typical "school with no homework" dream; I couldn't find the skis I borrowed, and when I thought I did, they wouldn't lace up correctly. Weirder still, Elena and an old friend Steve, (whom I haven't seen in about seventeen years,) were trying to help me.
As I've never skied in my life, haven't watched Better off Dead or any other 80s ski movie in years, and it's almost June, I have NO idea where this one came from. The only constant is that it took place at my parents' house, along with about 90% of my dreams. Maybe I'm haunting the place...