Thursday, August 28, 2014

Dream: Sightseeing in Vermont

It has been quite a while since I had a remembered dream.  I love it when I am dreaming and during the dream I realize that I am aware of the dream … and in the next instant, that I am awake. There is something about that moment that is somehow comforting. For me, maybe it is the knowledge that my mind is fully capable of weaving innumerable random thoughts into a surreal, inexplicable dream.  Last night’s dream did not disappoint. It went something like this …

The dream occurred in Vermont. Louis and Susan were visiting and we were on one of our excursions … a typical sightseeing day.  We were coming down either an escalator or some steps and for some reason, Susan was very close behind me and was hanging on to my shoulders. I recall being uncomfortable because I felt out of balance and was afraid I would fall down the steps. Sure enough, something happened behind me and Susan pitched forward causing me to stumble. 

I did not fall, but I was irritated. Suddenly, we were no longer on the steps. Rather, we were in a large field. Even though, we had had a close call on the steps, Susan refused to let go of my shoulders. In order to break her grip, I had to do a forward roll in the field and was able to get loose.

Having done so, I walked towards a large building across the field. Although I did not know where we were, it appeared to be somewhere in Mexico. Behind the building was a bus and Susan and Louis indicated that we needed to get on and we did. As the bus pulled away, I realized it was more like a van than a bus, but that it had lots of people on it  … more people than a van could hold … more like a bus. I asked Louis and Susan where we were going but they just shrugged and said they did not know.

Behind Louis and Susan, my friend from school, Paula Starkweather was seated. I know she saw us, but for some reason, it was evident that she did not want us to know she was there and avoided eye contact.

Before long, we arrived in a small town. The driver slowed to a stop, but as she did, she hit a signpost on the side of the street. The driver burst into tears and told me that she did exactly the same thing last time … except last time, the bus blew up and her husband was killed.

Everyone was hungry and we headed into a small store nearby that sold sandwiches and stuff. I asked the storeowner where we were, but did not recognize the name of the town. He indicated that it was near Barre, VT. Meanwhile, outside the store, people were wandering all over the place. Most of them were dressed in rather plain, print dresses, fairly short and looked like they had been taking off makeup from their faces. Most had black circles around their eyes. They had nylon stockings over their hair. All of them were embracing someone or some thing.

I noticed a waitress in the back of the store that looked familiar and went over to talk to her. I asked her questions about herself, but she seemed reluctant to answer. I finally just came out and asked her if she had left Garland. She was my cousin Mary Jean. She told me a rambling story and finally introduced me to her new husband who was sitting at the table with her. He shook hand with me and proceeded to show me his muscles. It was not really clear whether or not Mary Jean’s dad was aware or not that she had left Garland. I thought this to be a bit odd because she clearly knew that her dad was dead. I knew she had left Garland because she appeared to have aged backward to age nineteen.

Suddenly she went berserk, as did everyone outside. She merely screamed and yelled. Those embracing people outside however were a different situation all together. They were screaming and yelling too, and at the same time were laying on top of whoever or whatever they had been embracing. They were all squeezing and crushing their partners or objects. It wasn’t exactly sexual or molesting or even inappropriate other than they were killing them with the over-zealous embraces. We had to physically pry them apart. Mary Jean somehow ended up embracing some little girl. One old woman was embracing a small dog … I think a dachshund.

That is when I woke up. I remember wondering how Mary Jean met the guy from Vermont.

Wow … do I ever love to dream.