I had fallen on some rough times and for some reason was living in a craphole near Aurora in Shoreline, WA.
One day, I roll out off of a dingy couch and make my way to my pickup. Someone had stolen my tailgate and replaced it with an ill-fitting 2nd-gen gate, in cherry red but with tons of rot like my first Tercel.
Later in the week, a coworker/friend is checking in on me, and asks what happened to the pickup. I look down... Someone had stolen my entire BED. It was replaced with a black 3rd-gen that was beyond rusty and the guy had stomped it down for some shit-attempt at fitment. Every corner was crunchy and thin, like an aluminum can. I was at the lowest of lows.
Then I got distracted in my own dreams and began to budget for a flatbed:
My subconscious, seemingly annoying by failing to crush my spirits with a sad-sack alternate reality, gave up and I awoke feeling well-rested.
Anyway... I don't often dream about cars but this was crazy vivid by my standards. I could touch and smell the actual rust. Extra crispy!