New dreams are so rare for me I have to record them.
We must have been drunk but the dream started in a warped feeling reality. Like I couldn’t trust my own experiences for some reason. (Please, I know the reason.) We are hanging out. Others were seemingly drunk or out of it as well. And we sat together. My head in his hands. He stroked my hair and whispered to me for what seemed like hours. He told me how much he loved me. He told my I was his valentine, because apparently it was valentine’s day. We watched a movie. We talked with everyone. What I remember most both in the remainder of the dream and in my waking memory is just being held. Then something happened that I didn’t want to happen. I don’t remember what it was because my character in the dream couldn’t remember. And my dream self woke up angry in a different room. She, my dream self, went over to ask him what happened. He laughed, but wouldn’t say. She grew angrier and threw a fit. Not uncommon when dealing with him.
Dream self left the huge van with rooms (?) and walked the streets a while. She went to get something to eat, but mostly wanted to dwell on what had just happened. She replayed the night as she remembers it. Focusing on specific sensations. The things that felt the most real and eventually forgot the unwanted something. Then she returned, hours later, to the van much changed. No more rooms. Far more people. And she became a backseat driver. Literally, dream self had control of the brake from a row or two back. She was daydreaming and didn’t push the brake fast enough and we nearly, but didn’t hit the car in front of us. But still a police officer pulled us over and gave us a sentence. Now we have to drive the track.
Huge hills, like the biggest roller-coaster you’ve ever seen. You have to go so fast to get to the top, that you fly over it and careen helplessly toward the asphalt on the other side. And there is water every where around the road. If you for a second take your eyes, your focus, off the road, into the water you’ll go.
We’re racing up and down over huge hills, way too steep. The car reaches the tops and falls, it’s far too steep. We try to steer in the air as we’re falling. It’s not going to work and he yells from the front: we’re going into the water! Brace yourselves! So I brace myself, but right before we hit, I relax. I don’t know how it happens but my head clears the water. The water that was miles long and wide becomes a moderately sized pool. I swim to the edge and watch it shrink further. “That’s one way to get rid of people who’s driving you don’t agree with.” I say. And I watch as our car sinks into the depths of the water. The end of a very long nightmare. A nightmare in a nightmare. And I got the message.
This is harder than I thought it would be. Probably because I thought I’d be done writing. Thought I’d be an old woman before anybody I cared about read this. Before anybody who this is about read this. And it’s hard for me not to intellectualize all the time. It feels safe to me. It’s comfortable. Even though I didn’t write this exactly, it’s my way of keeping me honest. Of remembering who is master here. Dip a toe, so to speak.