Becky was our 1976 Mercury Cougar XR-7. She was part of our family in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Although she only had two doors, she was HUGE. She had a huge engine compartment, a huge trunk, and a passenger compartment that was, well, huge! If I remember right, the children had a different name for her than I did – something like “The Tank.”
I tell you that story so I can tell you this one.
When I have something important to do the next day, it is really hard for me to get a full night’s sleep. For example, this morning, it was finally time to get ready for basketball. I clean the floor every Saturday from 8 AM until 9 AM when we start to play. It is the highlight of my week.
As usual, I woke up early with expectation, about 5 AM. As usual, I tried to go back to sleep. As usual, I failed to fall into a comfortable sleep, which always brings on nightmares. Not monsters and such, just problem-filled situations I can’t solve.
This morning my dream featured Becky. I drove her to the grade school to pick up my daughter. I parked on a patch of very tall grass near the school. It was muddy. It was also fenced in, so don’t ask me how the heck I got to this plot of ground in the first place.
As I walked around the school looking for my daughter, I got lost in the maze of hallways and stairs. This building was like no grade school you have ever seen – a full five stories tall. It had nice staircases in front, and creepy, dirty staircases in back. It makes no sense for me to be climbing those stairs, I should have just waited for my daughter to come to me by the car.
Maybe I was thirsty in real life, because I stopped to drink from a grade-school-sized water fountain. I almost never use a public fountain.
Maybe I sensed how stupid my wanderings were, because I found myself outside headed for Becky.
Becky had sunk in that muddy grass up to her roof.
One of our sons was in middle school, and for some reason, his friend had driven onto that same muddy field with his beautiful maroon Volkswagen. Neither our son nor his friend were old enough to drive. Of course, the VW started sinking into the mud as well.
A neighbor in a duplex noticed our predicament, and was able to hoist the Volkswagen out of the mud by looping a garden hose underneath and pulling the car out – by himself. The VW was an even brighter color than before it sunk in the mud.
Was the neighbor as lucky with Becky? I don’t know. I must have figured out how stupid this whole dream was and woke up.
Now then, what do dreams mean, if anything?
I have no idea why Becky came to mind. Or why she sank. Maybe Becky sank because I am trying so dang hard to get a comfortable bed, and right now, all I can do is sink into eight inches of memory foam. That foam just isn’t firm enough to hold me up. My back aches from top to bottom.
The hallways? That is one for my shrink. My nightmares almost always picture me getting lost in a building. The buildings just keep getting more and more weird the longer my dream lasts. The true stuff of nightmares.
Any other hidden meanings?
Or just a dumb dream?