Staring Death in the Face

Years ago, some people began to have dreams about me. Bad Dreams. Dreams that led them to believe that my life was in eminent danger and I would probably die in a car accident. In a RED car. My mother was the first to have this dream, and upon waking, began calling me and everyone I know. Unfortunately for her, I was in college at the time and drunk - and unavailable to take a phone call....cause I was drunk. Over the next few years, I would learn that others had the same dream or variations of that dream, with the one constant being the RED car. At that point, I took it as a serious sign from God (?) not to own a red car, which morphed into my refusal to even ride in a red car which really pissed my husband (RIP) off when he brought cute little Mazda Miata covertible home and I made him take it back. That fear has stayed with me for years, and recently I have found myself driving my son's reddish Intrepid and my mother's reddish Lincoln because my stupid little silver car BLEW UP!! I have been telling myself that these vehicles are not really RED, but a variation of red, and therefore, somewhat safe..ish. Today, I am officially trading reddish Intrepid, reddish Lincoln and red golf cart in for my new vehicle - a Dodge Caliber.
And it's red. And I am a fucking moron (or brave warrior princess who laughs at death).