This was a horrible dream. I can’t even put all the events in sequence. Once I wake up, I forget the order of the way things happen when it’s such a jumble as this one was. Rather than try to fit them together in a sequence, I’ll just recall them as individual vignettes. Remember, they’re not necessarily in order.
I was with Stan’s mom and at least one of our nieces (Lizzie…I can’t remember if Hannah was there). It’s very hard to describe the vehicle we were driving in…it was open to the air and rather unsafe. Lizzie was sitting in a seat and belted in (she should’ve been in a child seat). Stan and his mom were sitting in front, and I wanted to sit in back, not in a seat but on top of what seemed like a bookcase–and a very flimsy one at that. I was lying on top of the bookcase and clinging on for dear life. We were driving around some cheesey town where the tallest building was about 3 stories high. It was a motel. Stan’s mom was talking about how she stayed there. I realized it was really dangerous being on top of a bookshelf in the back of this vehicle, so I asked if I could sit in a seat when we were stopped. Everyone looked at me like I was a jerk for not remaining at my station. (normal IRL response would be: “Of course, come sit down here, it’s dangerous there!”) They reluctantly made room for me in a very small seat next to Lizzie. Lizzie got the “adult” seat and I got the child-sized sidler seat.
I was at some house…it must have been in The Fort. I don’t know if I lived there or if I was visiting. I was waiting for my parents. They arrive in some red/marroon European car (Volvo? Mercedes?). (It’s always been about bluish greenish cars for my parents….they’d never get anything red, unlike their daughter). My mom and dad looked like they did 20 years ago. I ask them where the dogs are, meaning my dogs. My mom said they were at home, meaning her home. I wanted to see my dogs. I wanted them to take me to see my dogs. I wanted to make sure they were safe.
I was walking home (who knows where home was) along some very dark road…sort of like the roads leading to the Arboretum at night…very forested. I could barely see, and other people driving or riding bikes down the road couldn’t see either because a bike collided into me. I wasn’t hurt as badly as I would’ve been IRL…I sort of detangle myself from the bike and keep going.
I am in a room full of people. A very old doctor, who looked sort of like a cross between Jack Kevorkian and Stan’s Grandpa K (who I never met because he died long before I met Stan) took me into his office because he could tell something was wrong. He wasn’t any taller than I am, and very old and skinny. But he seemed very intelligent and very “with it” for his age. His right arm was amputated at the elbow, and he used his stump to sense irregularities with people. He put his stump on my forehead, but I wasn’t freaked out at all as I would be IRL. His stump had an odd hypnotizing effect on me, and I saw weird swirly kaleidoscopic imagery. Oddly, this was the least unsettling of all the dream segments, and the most comforting. That just goes to show how horrific the other parts were.
And here’s probably the worst: I was with a group of people, mostly teenage girls or young 20s. I felt very out of place.There was some guy who entered the room and touched the faces and looked at a couple of the young women next to me in a seductive way, checking them out, completely ignoring me. (what am I, chopped liver?) People started getting up and walking toward the front of the room. I realized no one else was sitting down like I was, so I got up too. I asked a couple of the women who were sitting by me if I could cut in line with them. They were very reluctant to let me in, but it was so crowded, who would notice anyway. Now here’s the really difficult thing to explain and translate from dream-logic. There was someone who was telling some joke or story. I can’t explain what it was about, but it made me very mad because I realized it was all fake and superficial. Then there was some guy who was up in a bookcase (another bookcase) and he was destroying something living…I don’t know if it was an animal or a plant, but it made me mad, and I figured if he could kill something, I could kill him. So I go after him with a knife and slash him up. I don’t know if I actually killed him, but I go back into the room full of young women and announce that I killed that man. They stare at me as if I am some pariah. No, they don’t call the police or rush to the aid of the man. They just treat me like dirt. Zombies.