INDIANAPOLIS -- Last week, I dreamed that I died and went to Indianapolis.

Like most dreams it was a little weird; but it did make some sense. After all, for racers, Indy is heaven.

A certain symmetry existed between that nocturnal hallucination and what actually transpired Sunday at the Brickyard 400.

As I arrived at the speedway there were no pearly gates but there was a tunnel. There was no saint welcoming me at the entrance, instead there was a woman wearing a yellow shirt, yelling and telling me I was going the wrong way.

Ahh ... the hallowed Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Yes, I said hallowed, not hollowed like some folks unwittingly did this past weekend. Sure, there are plenty of sterile race tracks out there where hollowed might be the appropriate adjective but not IMS. This place is different and very special.

What St. Andrews is to golf, Indianapolis is to racing.

Its historic canopied grandstands, gasoline alley and scoring pylon are signature symbols of the American racing landscape.

At center stage is the famed pagoda, which was recently reconstructed creating a contemporary version of the original structure that overlooked the facility in the early 1900s. It has a powerful presence and stands erect overlooking the speedway grounds and adjoining golf course as if it were a guardian protecting decades of tradition.

The Indianapolis faithful are the upper crust of the race fan pie. Their appreciation for the sport goes well beyond race day excitement. They understand, respect and revere those who raced across the bricks generations before.

Indy fans have a distinct etiquette not seen anywhere else in the racing universe. They are the beneficiaries of a racing tradition nearly a century old. They've been entrusted with this tradition and act as if it's their responsibility to hand it down.

	NASCAR hit the bricks at Indy for the 10th time on Sunday.

Parents bring their children to the Indy 500 and Brickyard 400 not merely for a day of family entertainment, but also for a history lesson. The Brickyard is part of the Indiana culture, part of the value system. Understand this and it's easy to understand Tony Stewart's obsessive determination to win here.

These fans, by the hundreds of thousands, packed the grandstands and lined the grassy knolls along the inside of the backstretch Sunday. What they witnessed was another classic.

Like my dream, Kevin Harvick had a fantasy day. During prerace commentary he said the Indianapolis Motor Speedway "pretty much rules." At the end of the day he was the one ruling it.

Harvick became the first driver to win the Brickyard 400 from the pole, but he did not lead wire to wire.

Late race pit strategy gave Harvick track position and pure talent gave him the lead. He sliced his way through traffic, bypassing Jamie McMurray late in the day.

But the defining moment came with 10 laps to go.

On the race's final restart, Harvick lined up directly ahead of his teammate Robby Gordon, with whom he's had a frosty relationship. The memory of Gordon's questionable Sonoma (Calif.) move, where he snookered Harvick for the lead while racing back to the caution flag was fresh on everyone's mind and nobody knew what to expect.

Despite tension within the RCR camp the two surprisingly put on a textbook display of teamwork. As Harvick mashed the gas Gordon bobbed and weaved, blocking the hard charging tandem of McMurray and Matt Kenseth. The selfless move enabled Harvick to pull away and score what he may one day consider the biggest win of his life.

One can only wonder how far this will go in mending the relationship of these two very intense competitors.

Celebrating the win, Harvick ignited a burnout, the likes of which had never been seen at Indianapolis. He left two very visible stripes of black rubber on the yard of bricks, leaving at least a temporary mark of his accomplishment.

It was a grand performance. But let me tell you what I would have done if I had won.

Wait, there I go dreaming again.

Mike Massaro covers NASCAR for ESPN and ESPN.com.