(I wrote out this dream long-hand, which suggests it's one that occurred to me at one of Renee Crauder's retreats. That makes it a long time ago.)
In my dream, I am driving a car. A sedan. It feels like Deb's (green) Honda. Martha is in the car with me.
I pull off to the side of the road and park. (Don't remember why.) Martha gets out and tells me she will be back shortly.
The car is parked next to a large green field. No trees. On the far side of the field, there is a collection of buildings that loos like an apartment complex with brick facades.
Now, there is a young woman walking around the front of my car. I think she is standing near another car, but I'm not sure of this.
She is quite pretty -- maybe in her early-to-mid 20's. Black hair cur in a Page Boy cut. She is wearing a one-piece bathing suit with the top neck strap untied and the top of her suit draped down her body to her waist. She is standing with her back to me and I wait until she turns around so I can see her breasts.
She looks very "well cared for," and carries herself with an attitude of privilege.
She walks over to another young woman who is clad identically. They hve a brief conversation that I can't hear, since I'm still sitting in the car. They are in front of my car.
The second woman disappears and the first woman walks behind my car, removes her slip-on shoes one at a time, and tosses them onto the trunk of my car. They land with a loud thump and I'm concerned they may have dented the trunk lid. I've watched them land in my rear view mirror.
I open the door and call out to her that if she did that again, could she do so more gently. I realize this is a nebbishy thing to say, but there it is.
(A bit later in the dream, I think that proper response would have been to get out otf the car, pick up the shoes one at a time and throw them as hard as I could into the grassy field. As my dream's mind plans out this thought, I "see" that the shoes are the rubber slip-on type that people use for gardening.)
Martha comes back to the car, gets in, and we drive away.
We stop again in the parking lot of a rustic-looking store which seems to function as a restaurant and something of a general store. I'm hungry. I walk inside. It smell s tgood and it's crowded. I realize that getting a sandwich to go would take a great deal of time and I'm not ready to wait that long.
I leave the shop and am standing in the parking lot when the owner(?) of the place appo=roaches me and clearly wants to explain what's going on and invite me to return inside the shop. He's speaking gibberish. (He's a heavy-set man, partially balding, and looks middle European.) Some of the words he's speaking sound like English but much of it is clearly not.
I'm not convinced to return inside and walk past his shed (away from my car). The person I'm walking with is Deb. I feel it's important in a small way to explain to her why I walked away. (This is something I do in my waking life all the time. It's a pointless exercise, but i do it all the same.)
We have walked past the shop to what may be another parking lot and I'm standing as I launch into my (unnecessary) explanation. We start walking back and Deb says "Well, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but..." She stops talking but continues walking.. This verbalization of hers is well known to me and I know my part. She wants to tell me her version of the interaction with the restaurateur and is asking permission to say so. My response is "No, tell me what you think." It's my way of giving her permission to tell me something I may disagree with.
I wake up.
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