Dream of: 09 July 2011 "Gas Station"

As I was riding a motorcycle on highway 23 near Rosemount (a village just north of Portsmouth), I noticed a gas station on my right where Rosemount Road forks off of 23. It looked like an Exxon station with blue and white markings. Suddenly I recalled that my father owned the station. I had completely forgotten about it.

As I circled into the station's lot, I suddenly began having vivid thoughts about how I might be able to start managing the station. I knew my father didn't spend any time with the station any more and he might be glad to have me take it over. I could even hire mechanics and have them work on cars at the station. I didn't have the money myself to buy a gas station, but with my father's backing, I could have a profitable business. The idea seemed excellent.

I stopped in front of the station and climbed off my motorcycle, which was as tiny as a small tricycle. Since I was afraid that someone might steal it if I left it out front, I picked it up and carried it inside the office with me. The room I entered was small, only about two meters by two meters. I hoped no one minded my bringing the motorcycle into the little room. I set it down in the corner.

I turned my attention to the only occupant of the room, a man (probably in his late 40s) sitting in a chair. Before walking in, I had noticed that the pumps in front of the station were all crowded and many people seemed to be buying gas. I was surprised, because the station had never done much business in the past. I asked the man when business had picked up and he told me that businesses had increased when he had re-obtained possession of the station from the man who had been operating it. He then explained how he had previously owned the station, but that another man had recently been operating the station, and how he had gotten the station back from that man. I immediately realized that he was talking about my father and I also realized that my father no longer owned the station.

From the man's tone, I could tell that he didn't care for my father. Nevertheless, I held out my hand and told him that I was my father's son. He shook my hand and he didn't seem to hold it against me that I was who I was.

As he had been talking, I had noticed that no one had come in to pay for any gas. I also noticed that all the windows in the little room were covered by what looked like dry wall so that we couldn't see outside. We continued talking and gradually we walked outside and boarded a car which he began driving around the lot of the station.

I could now see why so many people were stopping at the station for gas: the price of gas had been cut. At first I thought the price was only about a dollar and a half a gallon, but then saw that it was $3.09 a gallon.

I told the man that he was going to have a problem with people driving off without paying if he stayed in the little room and was unable to see outside. I told him if I were working there, I would stay right outside and collect the money outside where I could see everyone. Suddenly I had an idea and I told the man I would be willing to work for him for $10 an hour. I would stand outside and collect the money for him.

He thought about what I was saying. He seemed interested, but he seemed unsure. He was trying to make up his mind about whether to hire me.

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