Last night, a dream that after a visit to the south, one of my sisters had obtained Rebecca’s telephone. And I decided I was going to ask her for Rebecca’s number—Rebecca never died. She was just seriously injured but she had survived. I was ready to talk.
My knees are pressed together, my legs are failing. I’m going up a hill, and there’s icy slush on it. And there are trucks behind me, looming. One washes me in a torrent of slush and I’m soaked. I’m walking with a cane; my legs won’t move the way I want them to!
Can’t walk dreams reflect feelings of powerlessness in waking life to reach a goal or keep up with others. If not immediately obvious, look to the location and the key people in the dream for clues as to the waking life issue. Where in waking life are you feeling frustrated in getting where you want to go? Being unable to walk due to injury or incapacity reflect feelings of being hurt or unsupported respectively in waking life.
1. I was on a horse, and someone asked me if my horse was wild. I didn’t know how to answer. They said: “If she was your daughter..” and I finished the sentence with “..I’d be worried.” My horse was wild.
2. I went to work at a company, and I was a key player, some kind of high-level manager/technical worker. It was a computer company. And even though I was dressed outlandishly and acting completely un-businesslike, I was good at what I did and I was being shown around by one of the top administrative assistants, being shown the secret rooms and the keys to the kingdom, and in one of these rooms was a musical-type atmosphere where people were painting pictures of what they wanted the most and singing a communal song about stars (“~to be a *star*~”).
I just woke from a dream of a communal area, where people were mourning, planning, healing—doing the business of life—it was a mini-psych-ward type location where your goal was to get out as soon as possible.
And to the side, was my childhood bedroom, from Philadelphia (the one I always dream of). It was tilted, as on a gimbal, so as to require that objects on its floor be nailed down, or stopped by way of resting on nails that they did not slide to one of the edges of the room, and possibly out the door into the communal area. The bookshelves in this tilted room were similarly precarious. The windows lacked counterbalances, and had to be propped open with sticks, fragments of dowels from the closet, to remain open. There should have been bees coming at me from the windows—there had been a bees nest outside the window where bees came into the room (as was the case in waking life in this particular childhood bedroom)—but there weren’t any bees. Every time I looked to be stung, there was no bee to sting me, just an open window with coolish air to fill my hot, hot room. I was arranging my things, on the tilted floor, and wondering why no one would come in to my room, and expecting that someone would in a moment.
I take this to mean that I can’t participate in the communal parts of life (business, family) when my self-image is so precarious as to allow nothing stable to rest within it. That my self/house is such that nothing can be placed there and stay—that nothing can be built upon it. And that before I can build upon it, I will have to untilt the room (maybe see myself as valuable or loveable or capable). Or maybe untilting it means somehow getting my mental health right, so that I have a stable base from which to operate. The bees mean I have no enemies: that where I fear or perceive a threat to my existence, there is none—no one is trying to hurt me.
I will say this: I was happy with the possessions in this room: it was filled with books and papers and music and a comfortable couch, and everything I took out to arrange, I loved.
Dream that a little creature and his wheelchair-bound partner went to the store and upon leaving, got separated. The little creature waited in front of the store for his partner to return. When it started getting dark and the partner wasn’t there, the creature held his head low and moaned “Oh, no! Oh, no!”. Then he headed home, alone, and searched the face of everyone who passed, for his partner, but didn’t find her, and he wailed again, “Oh, no! Oh, no!”.
A twist on the driving dream. You know they say when there’s a car in your dream that it represents what you control. If you’re driving, you’re in control. If someone else is driving, you’re not in control. Well last night I had a dream that the vehicle (a van) was driving itself, and I was in the back compartment, reading. The car was successfully and safely avoiding obstacles and getting us where we wanted to go.
I take this to mean that I don’t need to be in control, and my life will unfold well anyway.
to this little town I’ve always liked, and while I’m there I rent this temporary warehouse space (the one from this previous dream) to stay in. And there’s this Christian camp that I accidentally take a bus to, and walk out of, to go back to the town center, which I love. And my legs stop being in slow-motion and my knees stop being impaired (as has been a theme recently) and I’m able to walk normally. And an old friend offers me drugs but I decline, because I’m really done with it. And I realize that I don’t have to buy a plane ticket home, to any of the home towns I lived before (and where things are less desirable than in this town I’m vacationing in)..I can just not buy at ticket home at all, and make this town my home, and instead of buying a ticket I can find a job to pay the rent, and make my temporary warehouse my home—that the problem of finding which home to go home to is solved, because I don’t have to do it—I can stay right here. (It was an issue of paying two rents, basically: once I decided I could leave behind the old homes (purchase of ticket home, payment of other rents), it became easily possible for me to stay in my vacation town. That the degree to which I stop being there/then is the degree to which I can be here/now.)