All of my dreams lately have been odd - but the main theme seems to be anxiety. I was in a house, not my own, in the mountains, a beautiful spot. The house was new and had hardwood floors and was like a skiing chateau. My sister was there - my grandmother, one of my brothers, my children were there and a close friend, Shari, was there. We were planning to go to New Hampshire, to the White Mountains, to ski. Shari thought we were going to drive; we were flying.
I hadn't told her that, nor had I checked with my sister to see if it was okay if my friend Shari could come too. (It ended up okay, but the conversations were nerve wracking, as I had had to confess that I had somehow forgotten to tell them each a crucial piece of information.)I just hadn't remembered to do it. So I had a lot of anxiousness and feeling stupid about those two things.
My grandmother wanted to drive my car on an errand - she can't drive, she is too old. She pretended that none of these things were true, got behind the wheel and sat there for a minute. She then got out, told us she had changed her mind, and haughtily marched back into the house.
My car had morphed into a sleek little sporty convertible and my Spinning seat was in the trunk. Which I needed, so I could take my sister's class which she was holding in a minute or two. I ran out to the car, but my son had already driven it off, so I didn't have it. A huge sense of loss and regret enveloped me and I went back into the house.
Anyway, it seems that my dreams are reflecting my state of mind even more than before. I am changing, changing, changing, at an unbelievably rapid pace. Inside my self is liquid and chaotic. And hence, my dreams are too.