dreams · life lessons

Car Games

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Driving in Dreamscapes

It was evening. My hands rested on the cold stainless steel sink as I peered through my kitchen window out towards the street just to see that my car was still parked there. It was just barely visible through the dense fog that had settled all around, but it was there. Right where I had left it. And it wasn’t going anywhere.

This was significant, and I noted it while I was still dreaming. For the past few years my car has ended up missing or stolen in nearly every single dream, so this was a welcome surprise. And I knew it meant something.

For as long as I can remember, cars have represented my life in my dreams. Who’s driving, what the car looks like, and where it goes all reflected what was going on in my life at the time. It is truly uncanny and absolutely fascinating to me.

When I was young, my father was always driving. This made sense because he was the boss. Then he started getting out and leaving me alone in the car. The vehicle would shift out of park and start rolling away every time, and reluctantly I would jump into the front seat and grab a hold of the wheel, attempting to steer or apply the brakes. It was scary yet invigorating.

As I got older, my first boyfriend was always driving. This was the time I realized the life/dream/car connection and I started to make a conscious effort to make more of my own decisions in real life. My very next dream after that was me driving my own car confidently.

When I moved out of the city away from my family for the first time, I stole a car and transformed it into a motorcycle.

When my fibro started flaring more, I would get lost. I’d drive around and around an ever-changing dreamscape of streets that seemed familiar only to turn back on themselves and lead me to where I started – or to someplace I wasn’t trying to go.

When I finally had to quit working and file for disability, my car would get stolen.

And that’s how it has been for several years now. I wake up and try to go to school or work only to find that my car is gone. Sometimes I find it, sometimes I don’t. If I find it and park it, it’s missing as soon as I turn my back. Fitting. Completely fitting considering my current circumstance.

Last night was the first time my car has stayed put, right where I had left it, in years. I could see it, even through the thick fog, and I knew it wasn’t going anywhere. All that was left to do was go out there and get it and move it into the driveway.

I think I can do that.

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