In two distinct dreams, which were separated by several forgotten ones, I dreamt that I drove a car. The first time it was in a medieval town reminiscent of Tuscany, but the second time it was in a big American city very like Boston. Actually, I drove a camper van or minibus rather than a car. It was quite bulky and awkward to maneuver, but I drove it without any trouble. And I parked it, too. I remember returning to the van after a tour of the old town and realizing that other cars could barely pass by it, for it was parked rather far from a stone wall alongside several other parked cars. In the second dream, I was about to pick up the same or similar van from a large parking garage. I remember thinking that no-one would notice that I had no driving license. Few people my age would be without one, anyway. Most important, I did not feel any fear on account of the fact that I not only had no license, but that I also did not know how to drive. When I woke up, I remembered that I actually did drive a camper van in Tuscany, of all places. That was almost exactly forty years ago. And I drove it for about an hour on a narrow road going to Siena.