Dream 20020621, 7 AM:
Jet Plane Car – LUCID
I’m driving along a freeway – yellow stripes on the road instead of white, but I think it’s all one way. Suddenly, my car starts spinning out of control – almost as if I’m on a railroad roundtable, I’m spinning in a circle, with lanes zooming across my field of vision. I am alone on the road, though, and don’t hit anything. I realize that this isn’t real, and that I’m dreaming – become LUCID, and decide that I should just floor the gas and take off on an adventure. I close my eyes, smiling, and press the gas pedal to the floor, and the car zooms forward over the edge of the road and off into the air, flying like a plane. I zoom around for a while. It’s very much like a jet plane, pulling on the steering wheel back and forth to control up and down.
I remember flying over lots of green hilly fields. I am doing little loops and figures in the air just for the sheer joy of flying. I still have some sensation of being inside the car-plane, but it also seems like I’m just flying through the air sitting down. I see a beautiful big blue-white butterfly, similar to one which figured largely in my previous dream; I reach out to it, and it lands on my finger, its legs tickling my skin like a silkworm’s. I see an orange butterfly like a monarch, and several white ones flying in a group like a little flock of birds, and I reach toward them, but they are too far away.
I find myself in a friend’s house. They are making food for a huge gathering of people – one large woman is preparing mashed red potatoes with the skins on, in a bowl that must be two and a half feet across. It looks like mashed potatoes for fifty. I am sitting at a table with them, visiting as they work. I don’t feel like there is anything for me to do to help, just to visit. I talk about how I want to do a backyard party like the one that Paul took me to years ago in California, where everybody came in costume and we had a lot of fun. The room we’re sitting in has a glass sliding door that looks onto the backyard. It’s not a house I recognize from real life.
Then, I’m in a little bedroom, almost like a dorm room. Chris is here, sitting on the floor beside the bed. There is a kitten here, too – reminds me of one of the ones from Miss Kitty’s litter, the mostly-white fluffy boy. I dump a bucket full of laundry onto the bed, which seems to have no sheets on it, just a bare mattress. The laundry is all clean, so it’s OK. Greysie is hiding in the basket, though, and she tumbles out as I pour out the laundry. She doesn’t get along well with the other cat; they hiss at one another until I pick her up and separate them to different areas of the bed. I take a bed sheet and drape it over Chris’s head like a robe hood; I say, “Ma-ry” very slowly, like it’s a joke. I’m dressing him up like Mary in the sheet, and calling him a “Mary” at the same time.
Then, we’re outside. It is a red brick building, but I know that it’s where we live. There are square brick columns supporting the upper stories, and a staircase goes down on the outside of one of the walls. We are in an place where we overlook a little courtyard garden; it has old trees in it, and some other plants. I want to go flying, and Chris can’t fly. I pick him up, sort of on my shoulders, but sort of piggy-back, and fly upward. He feels heavy, but it’s like we’re in water – it’s not nearly as heavy as it would be in real life to pick him up. We fly upward, and we’re looking at the trees – one of them, growing through an opening in the walls, has a vine growing in it that has red leaves like a poinsettia. I look back at it, and all the leaves are green now; it looks like poison ivy.