UNITED STATES—The other day a friend commented to me that he never remembers his dreams anymore. I thought about that and realized I haven’t had a memorable dream lately either. That changed this morning when I awoke from a real Duesy of a dream. This is how I remember it:
I find myself overlooking a large modern-style mostly glass mansion that is presumably situated on the corner of a prestigious street in my home town. The house features some elements of a home I once toured as a Realtor and other elements of a home with a circular driveway not far from where I grew up. There are many luxurious cars in the driveway. I suppose if I thought about it long enough, the home would resolve into a reasonable facsimile of The Glass Pavilion by architect, Steve Hermann.
Suddenly I am inside the home, only now it’s a prestigious car dealership. One of the managers who may or may not have been a former principal or boss of mine, acknowledges me. Keep in mind, everything is business as usual at the dealership, but everyone there is very much giving me the “hometown hero returns” treatment.
This manager (an older woman around six feet tall, wearing a gray pants suite) winks at me with a smile and mentions to me in passing, that she still has a copy of an old car review I wrote a long time ago (back in 2008, I’m guessing). She mentions the article involves a Ford model of some sort. I did write a review of a Ford Focus once. That might have been the one she’s referencing, although the imagery in my mind during the dream is very abstract and unclear. I remember picturing some old “1980”s compact Ford sedan in various pastel colors (pink, green, etc.). The strange color pallet might have been my subconscious mind’s way of telling me the car was a Mercury/Ford Topaz, but I digress.
Other sales agents, who are all wearing fancy suites go about their business, but they all acknowledge me with a smile as if to say, “sure we are all too busy to stop and chat, but you, Kyle, are welcome hear anytime.”
Suddenly, I realize I am wearing my pajamas. Then, someone tells me, “They’re ready for you.” I look outside and there are many adoring fans waiting, along with a photographer. Apparently I’m supposed to go outside for a magazine photo shoot or something. “Oh great,” I say. “Now I have to start wearing nice cloths all the time.” I say this as I am rolling up my sleeping bag on a nice white leather ottoman (it seems I slept at the dealership the night before).
I go outside and am scuffling into position when all the adoring fans rush over to me. The photographer gives me a command of some sort (I can’t remember what it is, but it might have been to tuck in my shirt). I then realize I am wearing a sport coat over my pajamas.
After the picture, I am being mobbed by all the fans. One fan in particular is trying to get my attention. He says, “Wait just a moment. I have something to give you!” I have no idea what it might be. He approaches me and says, “Here.” He hands me a Gummi Bear.
That is the last thing this gearhead remembers. It was a fairly strange dream, but then again, what dream isn’t a bit abstract? I suppose, I could analyze what it all means and what all the different components might symbolize, but first, I’d like to find out what those who fancy themselves amateur psychiatrists think about it. Please let me know what you think in the comments section.