Dream journal: plugged up garage

[scarlettina]

Last night, I went to bed determined to have better dreams than I've had the last few nights. Instead, I had car dreams that are pretty clearly connected to work and my upcoming vacation.

First, I dreamed that my car was stolen. I was at an event of some kind and, when it was over, I went out to the parking lot and couldn't find my car. It wasn't where I left it. I saw Charles de Lint in a car pulling out and begged him for a lift. He looked at me like I was crazy.

Next thing I know, I'm in an underground garage. In the dream, this is the garage of the apartment building in which I live, an upscale place in some undetermined city. My car, in this dream, was something like a pick-up truck—bigger than anything I've ever owned. But I couldn't get it out because the entrance and the exit to the floor upon which it was parked were jammed with people's extra furniture. And even as I roamed around, frustrated about not being able to get out, more and more people brought in furniture that blocked the ramps, until the place looked like an antiques shop. I was alternately angry about not being able to get out, and intrigued by the stuff people were shoving into place.

Basically, this is all about how the more I try to finish up stuff at the office before I take my vacation, the more people push stuff onto my plate to take care of. It's an interesting and not inappropriate metaphor. But these dreams are not what I was hoping for last night, and Zeke woke me twice during the night for cuddles, which means I'm not well-rested today. ::sigh:: Back to the salt mines....

Comments

[herself_nyc]

Oy oy oy. I commiserate.

[bedii.livejournal.com]

I think you have been to the Fremont Market once too often...