Dream Log
I haven’t been remembering my dreams much lately, but I just awoke from one and feel it very important that I write it down.
It was Sunday morning and I went to church with my family, but instead of pews, there were long tables set up for a large meal—a feast, really. Though we were a few minutes early and no one else was at the table, I sat down, loaded my plate, and began to eat. By the time others came to sit—I remember my elders quorum president, John Anderson, sitting next to me—I was almost done with my meal. A bit embarrassed, I got up and walked out of the building. My family came with me, and we drove to the home of some friends from the ward, the Joyces. (As an aside, I’ve never actually been to the Joyce’s house, so I have no idea if my dream’s representation thereof was in any way accurate.)
I didn’t actually see any of the Joyces there, which is particularly interesting since they’re a family of nine. I did, however, go into their family room, which was probably about 15′×30′ and extremely clean, if a bit empty. There was a sofa in the room and a wedding photo on the wall; I don’t remember seeing anything else in it, but perhaps I just wasn’t focusing on that. I then walked through a door from the family room into their oversized two-car garage, which was open and filled with things to be loaded onto a moving van in the driveway. My seven-year-old son, David (who is extremely inquisitive) asked what was happening, so I explained it to him: we were loading the van with donations for the needy. Members of the elders quorum started to arrive, and I did help for a little while, but at some point I noticed a throng of people in the back yard. I realized that these people were the recipients of the goods we were loaded, and I felt prompted to focus on them.
I left the quorum loading the truck and went into the back yard, where I began to talk to the people—in particular, a woman that greatly resembled a very nice Walmart employee who attempted to help me, on Wednesday. As we talked, she and I moved away from the group, and she expressed her displeasure with what she was receiving from the van, that we weren’t giving enough. I was about to point out that I had literally given the clothes off my back and was now wearing only a blanket—a detail I had only just noticed and she apparently had not—but before I could speak, I was prompted instead to give her a hug. I told her I loved her and would help her if I could. Her entire demeanor changed and we had a pleasant conversation. I then left the throng and returned to the garage. Though it had only been a few minutes, the garage was almost completely empty and the last few items were being dollied away. For some reason I was back in my suit, so the only-wearing-a-blanket aspect of the dream didn’t continue beyond that.
I got back into my own van, where my family (including my parents, who are currently visiting from New Jersey) was waiting. I got into the driver’s seat, and my wife, Anna, and our kids suggested that we share with my parents a road where the scenery was particularly beautiful. I knew the road, so we drove over to it and started to drive down it. The beautiful greenery started near the end of the main road, which ended with a right turn onto the road in question. The road in question then consisted of a long, straight stretch before hooking to the right itself. Almost immediately following the hook, the road ended at a gated community on our right. I had been in the community before, but Anna felt that since it was gated, we couldn’t go in and should turn back, instead. Unfortunately, the road was so narrow that Anna and my parents all agreed (though I did not) that we needed to put the van in reverse and back out the way we came. I acquiesced, but due to the narrowness of the road, several of us eventually got out of the van to direct our progress. I honestly don’t know how the van was turned around (perhaps Anna had taken over driving?), but next thing I knew, it was, and we all returned to the van and headed on our way.
The next stop was a mall, where I somehow got separated from the rest of the family. At some point, I could see them upstairs and obviously wanted to join them, but instead of looking for a direct route, I saw a nearby, bright red stairway to the second floor via a Pizza Hut on its own floor, between the ground and second floors. The stairway was surprisingly long and twisted and turned a bit, but I eventually arrived at the Pizza Hut, which was closed because it was Sunday. While I was happily surprised by this detail, I was appreciably less happy to see the closed gate blocking the stairway from Pizza Hut to the second floor. Unable to move forward, I noticed a series of equally red, winding slides that returned to the ground floor. I picked one and, though slightly nervous that I’d fall off, had considerable fun sliding down it. The slide ended in a sheer drop—probably about five feet at a 160ish˚ angle—that caused me to reflect that, though I’d like to share this with my children, they’d probably be too scared at this point.
At the bottom of the slide, there were many people gathered. This portion of the mall was apparently open-air, and as I looked over the half wall at the edge, I noticed two straight, wide overpasses—perhaps a divided interstate, perhaps just a particularly wide mall entrance/exit—running perpendicular to the wall and, presumably, under the mall. Below that was a divided highway, three lanes per side, running parallel to the wall and itself a bridge. Finally, below the divided highway and running fairly perpendicular to the wall, was a river. As I watched through the gap between the overpasses, I could see a large, jagged gap in the highway—one that obviously wasn’t supposed to be there. The gap occasionally changed in size but was never less than a car length in width. The highway was a busy one, and people kept driving up from the far side of the gap, sometimes slowing down a bit, but never quite in time to avoid falling through the gap and into the river. This obviously disturbed me quite a bit, but though others were starting to notice the spectacle and stopped to watch, they seemed to be observing out of fascination rather than concern.
Suddenly the traffic stopped for a moment before a series of cars came through, moving so quickly they all looked like a single, three-lane-wide blur, jumping the gap and continuing on their way. The blur continued for a few seconds, then ended as suddenly as it began. Left behind after the blur was a single car trailer, abandoned at the edge of the far side of the gap. Then slowly, even so slowly and carefully, an old Volaré wood-paneled station wagon backed up on the near side of the gap, sticking its trailer hitch across it to connect with the trailer. Once hooked, the car and trailer started on their way again, but of course couldn’t get up to speed quickly enough. This caused the trailer to fall through the gap in the bridge, pulling the car backwards and into the river with it. The traffic then started up again and, as each car approached the gap from the far side, fell in like most of its predecessors.
As I looked down in the river, the pile of cars was becoming deep enough that it was about to break the surface. Even so, I never saw anyone emerge from the wreckage. I knew the cars’ hapless occupants were clinging for life if not already dead, and in desperation, I asked the crowd around me, “Has anyone called the police?” People started looking at each other, realized that the Bystander Effect was in full swing, and a man next to me took out a large cell phone and began to dial. Unfortunately, I woke up before he finished.
So, why did I feel the need to record this dream? I don’t know, exactly, but I can’t help but notice a common thread in the various stories it encompassed: in each, I am alone amidst a group of people. In each, I am noticing something that others have missed, even if others eventually notice it as well. In each, I do (or want to do) something that others are not doing (or don’t want to do).
Any other insights?
It was Sunday morning and I went to church with my family, but instead of pews, there were long tables set up for a large meal—a feast, really. Though we were a few minutes early and no one else was at the table, I sat down, loaded my plate, and began to eat. By the time others came to sit—I remember my elders quorum president, John Anderson, sitting next to me—I was almost done with my meal. A bit embarrassed, I got up and walked out of the building. My family came with me, and we drove to the home of some friends from the ward, the Joyces. (As an aside, I’ve never actually been to the Joyce’s house, so I have no idea if my dream’s representation thereof was in any way accurate.)I didn’t actually see any of the Joyces there, which is particularly interesting since they’re a family of nine. I did, however, go into their family room, which was probably about 15′×30′ and extremely clean, if a bit empty. There was a sofa in the room and a wedding photo on the wall; I don’t remember seeing anything else in it, but perhaps I just wasn’t focusing on that. I then walked through a door from the family room into their oversized two-car garage, which was open and filled with things to be loaded onto a moving van in the driveway. My seven-year-old son, David (who is extremely inquisitive) asked what was happening, so I explained it to him: we were loading the van with donations for the needy. Members of the elders quorum started to arrive, and I did help for a little while, but at some point I noticed a throng of people in the back yard. I realized that these people were the recipients of the goods we were loaded, and I felt prompted to focus on them.
I left the quorum loading the truck and went into the back yard, where I began to talk to the people—in particular, a woman that greatly resembled a very nice Walmart employee who attempted to help me, on Wednesday. As we talked, she and I moved away from the group, and she expressed her displeasure with what she was receiving from the van, that we weren’t giving enough. I was about to point out that I had literally given the clothes off my back and was now wearing only a blanket—a detail I had only just noticed and she apparently had not—but before I could speak, I was prompted instead to give her a hug. I told her I loved her and would help her if I could. Her entire demeanor changed and we had a pleasant conversation. I then left the throng and returned to the garage. Though it had only been a few minutes, the garage was almost completely empty and the last few items were being dollied away. For some reason I was back in my suit, so the only-wearing-a-blanket aspect of the dream didn’t continue beyond that.
I got back into my own van, where my family (including my parents, who are currently visiting from New Jersey) was waiting. I got into the driver’s seat, and my wife, Anna, and our kids suggested that we share with my parents a road where the scenery was particularly beautiful. I knew the road, so we drove over to it and started to drive down it. The beautiful greenery started near the end of the main road, which ended with a right turn onto the road in question. The road in question then consisted of a long, straight stretch before hooking to the right itself. Almost immediately following the hook, the road ended at a gated community on our right. I had been in the community before, but Anna felt that since it was gated, we couldn’t go in and should turn back, instead. Unfortunately, the road was so narrow that Anna and my parents all agreed (though I did not) that we needed to put the van in reverse and back out the way we came. I acquiesced, but due to the narrowness of the road, several of us eventually got out of the van to direct our progress. I honestly don’t know how the van was turned around (perhaps Anna had taken over driving?), but next thing I knew, it was, and we all returned to the van and headed on our way.
The next stop was a mall, where I somehow got separated from the rest of the family. At some point, I could see them upstairs and obviously wanted to join them, but instead of looking for a direct route, I saw a nearby, bright red stairway to the second floor via a Pizza Hut on its own floor, between the ground and second floors. The stairway was surprisingly long and twisted and turned a bit, but I eventually arrived at the Pizza Hut, which was closed because it was Sunday. While I was happily surprised by this detail, I was appreciably less happy to see the closed gate blocking the stairway from Pizza Hut to the second floor. Unable to move forward, I noticed a series of equally red, winding slides that returned to the ground floor. I picked one and, though slightly nervous that I’d fall off, had considerable fun sliding down it. The slide ended in a sheer drop—probably about five feet at a 160ish˚ angle—that caused me to reflect that, though I’d like to share this with my children, they’d probably be too scared at this point.
At the bottom of the slide, there were many people gathered. This portion of the mall was apparently open-air, and as I looked over the half wall at the edge, I noticed two straight, wide overpasses—perhaps a divided interstate, perhaps just a particularly wide mall entrance/exit—running perpendicular to the wall and, presumably, under the mall. Below that was a divided highway, three lanes per side, running parallel to the wall and itself a bridge. Finally, below the divided highway and running fairly perpendicular to the wall, was a river. As I watched through the gap between the overpasses, I could see a large, jagged gap in the highway—one that obviously wasn’t supposed to be there. The gap occasionally changed in size but was never less than a car length in width. The highway was a busy one, and people kept driving up from the far side of the gap, sometimes slowing down a bit, but never quite in time to avoid falling through the gap and into the river. This obviously disturbed me quite a bit, but though others were starting to notice the spectacle and stopped to watch, they seemed to be observing out of fascination rather than concern.
Suddenly the traffic stopped for a moment before a series of cars came through, moving so quickly they all looked like a single, three-lane-wide blur, jumping the gap and continuing on their way. The blur continued for a few seconds, then ended as suddenly as it began. Left behind after the blur was a single car trailer, abandoned at the edge of the far side of the gap. Then slowly, even so slowly and carefully, an old Volaré wood-paneled station wagon backed up on the near side of the gap, sticking its trailer hitch across it to connect with the trailer. Once hooked, the car and trailer started on their way again, but of course couldn’t get up to speed quickly enough. This caused the trailer to fall through the gap in the bridge, pulling the car backwards and into the river with it. The traffic then started up again and, as each car approached the gap from the far side, fell in like most of its predecessors.
As I looked down in the river, the pile of cars was becoming deep enough that it was about to break the surface. Even so, I never saw anyone emerge from the wreckage. I knew the cars’ hapless occupants were clinging for life if not already dead, and in desperation, I asked the crowd around me, “Has anyone called the police?” People started looking at each other, realized that the Bystander Effect was in full swing, and a man next to me took out a large cell phone and began to dial. Unfortunately, I woke up before he finished.
So, why did I feel the need to record this dream? I don’t know, exactly, but I can’t help but notice a common thread in the various stories it encompassed: in each, I am alone amidst a group of people. In each, I am noticing something that others have missed, even if others eventually notice it as well. In each, I do (or want to do) something that others are not doing (or don’t want to do).
Any other insights?
That was incredible share.
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