I am in the country at someone’s house. I am outside and I see the sky changing and getting darker. A strange dark, like steel blue, with white clouds billowing up and up into the stratosphere, pushing upward in huge bursts.
I go inside to find my mom. The floors of the cottage are painted grey (like in the convent) and someone has just washed them; they are still wet. I take my shoes off. In a large area (the kitchen?) I see a
young woman. She is small and thin with straight black hair. I comment on how she could be my mother when she was young.
I tell my mom that we need to leave now (in the Altima) before the storm breaks, because I do not want to drive in the storm. As she opens the back door to check the sky, a huge thunderbolt strikes just ahead of us. The bolt is blinding, the noise deafening, and it must have lasted over a minute (or so it seemed in the dream). I comment,
“See. ”
In some sort of open area — it might be the top of a large hill — I am picking my way through many people lazing around on the grass.
Some are sitting and chatting in family groups, some are lying down or leisurely walking. There’s quite a crowd. I notice a little girl who breaks free from her father’s hand. She’s running straight toward me and I intercept her and catch her in my arms. The father seems unable to run after her. They are both dark-skinned. From India, maybe?
I am at a mall with my mother. We’ve stopped there to pick up some things for the trip (I think). I open a door and I see a large green field. The grass is thick and clean and cut, like that on rich people’s property. In the distance I can see the back of several big houses lived in by the wealthy. I think this must be their backyard. I dare not step onto the grass because it’s wet and I’m afraid of being struck by light-ning. The sky is still threatening.
I am in my car (Altima) but there is a man driving it. My mom is in the back seat. This is an old man who looks sort of like her old boyfriend who was an alcoholic — a tiny little man with his hair dyed red, who could not have weighed more than a hundred pounds. I did not like him. My mom drank more with him. She tells me he is to drive us to our destination.
Next, still in the car, but this time the little man is no longer sitting at the wheel. However, the car is moving through traffic. I am upset.
I tell my mom he must have been drunk and left the car in gear when he got out of it. To get to the wheel, I have to remove lots of baggage taking up space between myself and the wheel. I see the car moving behind other cars, though not at great speed, just sort of following traffic. I think I must reach the wheel before we have an accident. I throw parcels and bags and stuff, lots of stuff, into the back seat as I struggle to sit behind the wheel. As I finally take control of the car, I
think that I left my purse somewhere at the mall. My heart sinks at the thought of having lost my purse.
I awake with my stomach in knots. The clock shows 8:30. I am an hour late. I am never late.