September 1, 2008—I have to write this dream down before I forget. P and I were traveling in parts unknown and ended up on some highway looking for a place to stay for the night.
We crossed the street to what was advertised as a hotel but it looked more like a school. As we walked around we noticed that the décor was almost entirely from the 1970’s, but, we tried to find the lobby anyway to check in.
I looked at the map. We had entered on the fourth floor, which I thought was rather odd. Then someone pointed up towards the women’s bathroom and said check-in is behind the mirror in the women’s bathroom.
So, I checked it out first. I went into the bathroom and there was a black woman sitting by the mirror like a guard and right by her, at the first sink, was another woman vomiting. I peaked in through the glass that moved to one side and I saw that indeed there were people checking in.
I came back and got P and our bags. At the check-in counter there were a group of women in black robes, like judges, sitting in these grandiose chairs, and when P went to sit down one of the women in charge said, “You! Do not sit there.” And so P complied. I sat anywhere.
They began telling P that certain “bad” items of clothing were not allowed—things like ties, belts and other men’s clothing items. Again, he complied and turned them over. It got so creepy though that we suddenly realized we needed to leave and that this place was not safe.
My eyes teared up, and I said to P, “I have to get out of here.” His eyes teared up too and he said the same. Strangely, we came to the same conclusion, and yet we didn’t say “we” have to get out of here. At any rate, we ran out the door and back to the same isolated highway, with really no options to rest. Suddenly, we noticed a hill and it looked as if there might be a place to stay up there, so, we began to climb. Once at the top, we passed a man who looked like a zombie. He had really long hair, tattoos and casual clothes. He told us that he makes himself look ugly and scary for protection, so that the bad people from the hotel at the bottom of the hill don’t get him. I awoke in such a state of agitation. What is my subconscious mind trying to tell me? That I am a man-hating feminist? That P and I cannot find a place to “rest” and be safe? Is this dream a warning of some sort?
Perhaps I was just a little over-stimulated from all the food, wine, coffee, people and sun. At least, I hope.
Taken from: The Break-Up Journal