speeding bullet.

Last night I had a nightmare.

I was driving in my car, with a barrage of police cars behind me -- lights flaring, sirens shrieking. Nervously I checked my rear view mirror. From the sky, you could see my little white car speeding ahead of at least a dozen police cars. Helicopters from the police department and news stations circled overhead, zooming in on my car and making speculations about my sanity.

Quick! I thought, turn around!

Grasping my steering wheel, my knuckles turned white. My teeth were clenched. My eyes squinting. With one swift movement I turned the wheel to the left, cutting my car across the grass median, leaving tire marks on the road. My tires squealed as I passed through onto the pavement on the other side of the road. Behind me, the grass median was torn from my quick maneuver.

I checked my mirrors. I had lost them. Yes, in my dream changing directions on a wide open interstate is enough to shake even the most diligent of police officers.

I decided to pull over and get off the road -- otherwise they might find me.

I found my way to a truck stop. Sketchy beyond belief. Men in red flannel shirts sat at electronic gambling machines while their trucks idled outside. I think I'll drive home, I thought. Surely the police won't look for me there...

When I left the truck stop, my car was gone -- along with my wallet, purse and cell phone. I was utterly stranded. I was a fugitive. I started to cry. And then I woke up.

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This all stems off a speeding ticket that I got in REAL life this past Friday. 80 and in a 65. Ouchies.

regret on credit.

I hate making mistakes.

Particularly the kind where, had I thought for a few more moments, could have been avoided.

It's the noun in Latin that I declined as plural rather than singular, an embarrassing slip of the tongue in a conversation, a mispronounced word, calling someone by the wrong name... the silly things I do every day. Mostly the consequence is a few moments of "doh!" or "I hope they don't think I'm an idiot..." but the other day I started thinking about the bigger mistakes I've made in my life. What about the mistakes that involved weeks of wrong decisions -- a series of "doh's!" that only come to light in hindsight?

Looking around me at my peers, it seems that all of us have these streaks of stupidity. A relationship gone awry, a regretted kiss, a failure to stand up for ones self. Dotted among my many friendships, I have heard so many stories of regret. And -- just like nights at the movies, shopping sprees and electric bills -- these regrets are placed on credit ... left to be forgotten for now, but sure to resurface for payment later.

I say this because one of my greatest life regrets has just surfaced. After collecting interest, and simmering for a long while, it has come back to consume my hourly thoughts and nightly dreams. This time around I know I can't refile my regrets to the back of the cabinet. It's time to pay for my mistakes, confront some situations and say some apologies. A hard thing to do, for sure, but necessary this time around I think.

I tell myself that this is just the hard process to being a better person.

But it is also making me realize the attractive allure of denial!