6 Oct 07

My dream was set in my childhood home. It was a school and there were many students. I was grouped with some girls. We all had a rolled up mattress that was our bed and our special clothes we wore, which reminded me of karate robes.

At first I was told what to do and where to go, but as time went on, no one enforced or checked up on me and I stopped following the structure. Time flew by and I realized I was not attending classes and was busy following my interests and allowing myself lots of recreational time.

It reminded me a lot of high school, and how I wasted a lot of time and didn't attend classes because I figured out all of the loopholes that enabled me to still easily pass. My stepdad approached me in my dream and told me that he felt it was time I traded in my truck for a car. He would paint the car red for me, and all I would have to do is help the men working at the shop to do the welding and refurbishing of it.

In the dream the truck had served me well and was easy to maintain. I didn't care about having a flashy car, I just wanted things to be easy and low maintenance. But I didn't seem to have a lot of choice, or so I felt, and I went along with my stepdad. But as time went on, I hated going to the shop to work on the car. I just wasn't interested and the men there could do it just as quickly without me in the way. But they complained I was not helping and my stepdad found me in the basement of the house and talked to me calmly about it. I said I was glad he had come to talk to me, relieved actually, because I honestly was not interested in the car and was happy to clear the air about it and stop pursuing it. At this he became extremely upset, and behaving like a child that can't get their way began puffing and started to cry and he swiftly left despite my pleading that he stay and talk with me. He ran far away so I could not talk to him anymore. I had thought that all would be well if I was just honest. I was disappointed because he was a parent and behaving irrationally.

Now I felt a strong need to cry. My head felt as if it literally contained a bucket full of tears brimming to the top that desperately needed to be released. I had not asked much of my fellow female students, but I decided I had to ask them now if one of them would allow me a few minutes to talk and cry and release some of this sadness. But each one I approached absolutely did not want to talk to me. They did not want to be exposed to my emotions. I pleaded with one girl who said she would allow me to talk. I followed her as she led me down the hallway to a room where we could be alone. But suddenly, she disappeared through a door and I could not find her. It was as if she vanished.

My tears were brimming and I could find no one to hear me or talk to me. So I was not able to release my bucket of tears.