Through the months of restless, wakeful nights, I have never dreamed. Since the fire in my brain, I guess. Thinking about this one makes me certain that it’s probably good I haven’t had one before now.
I am walking through a vast, endless desert, trying to find my way home. I can’t remember where “home” is, and I’m completely lost with no idea where to go. Various people I don’t know are trudging past, all going in the opposite direction. No one appears to notice me, so maybe I’m invisible. Suddenly I’m struck by the oddest thing. Everyone is carrying one car door as they struggle through the sand to pass me. The couples walking side-by-side each carry their own car door, holding them on opposite sides of each other. Sort of like one is the passenger door and one is the driver.
“What is this?” I ask myself. Why are all these people carrying heavy car doors, and in the desert?
A large man with a red handlebar mustache huffs by, stops beside me and rolls down his window. “Hey, is it just me or is it really hot outside?”
I can only shake my head speechlessly, before continuing to slog my way through the sand, still searching for home.
But then ahead I am stunned to see a policeman standing by a woman who is holding her own car door. He’s leaning in her open window and actually writing her a ticket!
At this point in the dream, whatever logical side is left in me announces that it’s time to wake up. I lie here in the dark laughing aloud.
I think it’s a good idea to call my therapist in the morning.