I’ve had dreams with the same theme for months: I’m in an unfamiliar place with no money and need to get home.
Last night, I dreamed that my a-Dad, a-mother, sister and I were standing at the foot of a highway on-ramp. A-dad pointed to the ramp and yelled at me, “Get out of here! Get out of here!”
I walked up the ramp, which led to a city street with trolley tracks. I had very little money, maybe a dollar and a half. I was in a Black inner city neighborhood and felt myself to be in peril, although no one really bothered me.
I tried to catch a trolley heading out of the neighborhood, but the driver closed the doors before I could reach it. Incredibly, I was able to grab a couple of handles outside the trolley and road it in that way until it stopped.
I got on the rear doors and was confronted by a couple of big-mouthed passengers who complained that I had to pay a fare.
I walked up to the fare box where a leering conductor and his pal gave me a hard time about the fare. I kept asking how much it was and they wouldn’t tell me right away. Finally, they smirked that it was $3.
A kind woman gave me enough money to ride the trolley. She cautioned me to be careful where I got off, since the trolley was going through some tough neighborhoods. For some reason, I thought we were in NY City, although I would guess it’s been decades since they’ve had above-ground trolleys.
I woke up at that point and had another dream about being unfairly accused of stealing and defacing merchandise.
Stopped in to the First Church of Christ (UCC) in Sandwich Center for a fabulous tea with dozens of different tiny sandwiches and desserts. One of our table mates kept us entertained with great stories about local eccentrics from the 1930’s-on.