National Dream Center

Full Version: Leaving the floodplains
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5 June 2017
No intention set

Riding in a car filled with others. Men I don't know. I'm in the back seat, sitting on the passenger side next to the door. The driver was acting like he was my mother but I could see through his disguise/glamour. It seems safer to me if I pretend I don't know. No one is talking. We're on a four laned highway, heading out of a city. I don't recognize any landscape and don't know where I am. We drive and drive until we're in an area that borders on a lake/sea/large body of water. It's raining outside. There's water flooding over the road until it's almost impossible to see the roadway beneath the water. The driver stops the car, right there in the lane. Other cars don't seem to notice, they just whizz by us in the other lane as though the roadway isn't underwater. One of the men asks the driver what he plans to do. The driver says that our road keeps going but he doesn't want to drive through the flooding. I watch as other cars keep going, following a curve in the road that goes left, and wondering how they're staying on the road when they can't see the edge. The driver puts the car in reverse and begins backing along the freeway, back in the direction we've come. This does not strike me as a smart idea so I open the car door and step out.

Then I'm walking up to a truck stop on the edge of the flooded area. It's a busy place, with trucks coming and going and people walking around. I'm cold and wet so I seek out a warm place where I can dry off. I enter the women's bathroom. The space is packed with women and children of all ages. There are chairs around the perimeter, all occupied, and people sitting on the floor. Some of the women are knitting or sewing. There's some conversation but it's all muted. All the people are dressed in black and wearing black bowler-type hats. I enter an empty stall. When I'm finished, I exit the warm bathroom. There's a man leaving the men's room. I see more of the people dressed in black and wearing the same kind of hats as the women in the bathroom. I ask the man if he knows what's going on with all the people in black. He tells me, Oh those are the Chileans. They're waiting for their guide so they'll know where to go next. I ask if the border patrol is aware of this. He eyes me and says yes, the border patrol knows but looks the other way unless someone complains and asks if I plan to complain. No, I tell him, I was just curious. He continues on his way. I settle down on a bench near something warm and I'm out of the rain. It won't be bad waiting here.


A friend and I have a running joke about calling where we each live "the floodplains." There was a strong sense of needing to be in the floodplains, of moving through the floodplains.

No idea about the car of men but I knew the way they were going wasn't for me.

The symbolism of the truck stop: A place of transition. A temporary resting place or respite. Not a place where people stay permanently.

Bathrooms in dreamtime, for me, represent places outside the dream. Almost like little pockets of dreamtime yet not part of the dream. I've had dreams where I've taken meetings with others in bathrooms. In other dreams, the bathrooms were a place of safety, somewhere to hide where no one would find me. Occasionally, bathrooms are like rooms in a house, complete with furniture, or part of a hospital room. That doesn't happen often and I've never figured out why they're so different then. But this time, not only did the bathroom feel like it was outside the regular dream but it was also a waiting room for the "Chileans."

No idea if I was waiting for someone to come get me or if I was simply waiting for the weather to change before I moved on.

Overall, this felt like a transition dream, that I'm in a place where I'v finished one aspect and I'm preparing to move into another.