being really nice to our selves, as we should be
Level of Lucidity: N/A Level of Cohesiveness:
Rating:
Lucid Intent? Yes
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I'm in a car with two of the guys my brother, B__, went to school in Europe with back in the 1970s. One is BR (forgot who the other one was). B____ seems very annoyed at me, like I've been following them and he wants me to get lost.I get very depressed and wander around a parking lot. I hide out on the roof of someone else's car. But then a man and his small daughter get in -- they're traveling to Long Island. I just stay motionless on the roof of the car for the whole five-hour trip. I don't care, I'm just so depressed.
They arrive at a hotel on Long Island and I wake up.
I'm relieved that it was just a dream. In real life, I'm happy that I'm not depressed right now -- but it was disturbing to have a dream in which I seemed to have relapsed into it.
Surprisingly, I fall right back asleep (usually nightmares make me wake up for a while).
In a new dream, I get in a car. B____ and B___ (a couple from college that got married IRL) and others are also in the car. I observe that one of the passengers has his feet hanging out the half open door on the right side of the car.
I also see that the driver seems a little out of it. Suddenly he crashes right through the bay window projection of a house, and keeps on going as if nothing happened. I'm shocked -- what the hell is going on? Why isn't anyone in the car as upset about this as I am? I look over at the guy whose feet were hanging out the door, and see that his legs are bruised and injured. But he's staring off into space in a daze, as if everything is fine.
I tell the driver we need to stop, because the guy is badly injured. And maybe someone in the house was hurt, too.
The driver laughs at me, and hurls scorn at me for my concern.
"But his feet were sticking out when you hit the house!" I exclaim angrily.
Suddenly we're offroad and he's barreling fast up a mountain dirt path that's strewn with rocks. I'm full of fear. We plunge off a cliff when the path makes too sharp of a turn, and we start falling thousands of feet to what I'm sure will be our certain death.
Suddenly I see what I think are plate-shaped UFOs materializing in the air below us -- are they going to rescue me?
But we land on dirt in a rental campsite, and not even that hard. The car is still intact and the landing causes no further injuries.
The driver leaps out and comes at me with a flame thrower. He wants to torture me.
In the back of my mind is the thought that I should be questioning this strange course of events. But somehow I chalk it up to the fact that I'm depressed, and that's making me an easy target for this bully.
I run into a house and go through many rooms to an enclosed porch at the far end of the building. I find a phone and try to call 911 -- but the phone has an odd tone (precognitive: I was showing my niece all the ring tones that my phone can play today). And I can't get through to the police.
The mother of the bully runs up to me and tries to wrest the phone away from me, telling me that I'm wrong. I wake up right at that moment.
I hold still for a while and oddly start thinking about how we actually hurt ourselves in real life every day at a certain level that we have gotten used to. We compensate for this hurt by doing SOME nice things for our selves, but not nearly enough as just being REALLY nice to our selves, as we should be doing. The being nice part that we are doing fools us into thinking that we're doing all we can to live a happy life when, really, we're NOT....
The name "Winkowitz" flashes through my head (precognitive: I saw a name very similar to this when I was looking for a hotel for our family trip this fall, but now I can't remember which website it was on).
I wake up.
