Last night I had a dream that I was driving rather fast on a highway. I don’t remember where I was going or why, and I was alone. The road grew dark, and it became very quiet in the car, but still I was moving. There were no other cars on the road; nothing on the sides of the road; no stars or moon above, just pure darkness outside.
I could only see a short distance ahead, which was quite frightening, but I also feared that if I slowed down something terrible might happen. I woke with a start.
I’m not one to assign meanings to dreams; I tend to think they reflect an overall mood or state of mind rather than a direct message. But this morning I couldn’t shake the dream. I kept coming back to it.
Then it struck me that the dream is kind of a metaphor for the journey I’m taking with C: it can be frightening, isolating, claustrophobic, with no clear understanding of a destination, leaving only the thought that slowing down—giving up—is not an option.
And so on we go.