Dream Log — The Missing Car

Date: October 11, 2010
Time: Between 6AM and 7AM ET

DREAM SUMMARY

I’m doing some work with my wife around the driveway of my parents home. My Honda Accord is sitting at the top, and for whatever reason, it needs to be moved. My wife gets in the car and backs it out of the driveway, though she doesn’t stop.  She continues going backwards down the street for about 100 feet before coming to a stop, catching the attention of local police.  They tow the car.   I am left without a car and no paper work, and we have no idea where the car is. I’m obviously frustrated and pound the steering wheel in anger.  What steering wheel?  I have no car.  I have no idea.

The scene changes. We’re now back in Medford during a typical workday morning, but the situation is the same; we have no car and no idea how to find it. We start by taking the T around to a few possible car lots, or what we thought the tow truck folks may have said. I recall Cambridge and Revere coming up in conversation but we never actually make it anywhere resembling either city. I have the keys to my car and we do make it to at least one parking lot that I remember.  We wander the lot pressing the lock button and waiting for the familiar horn beep and light flash.   An SUV flashes its lights and I investigate. Hesitant at first I am eventually convinced that I am causing the flashing with my key set, though write it off as an electrical coincidence.   This was one of a few false alarms that I recall.

The scene completely changes to a resort/hotel in the woods.   My parents are there now and I wander outside for a moment and watch over a wedding ceremony playing close attention to the piano player, who reminds me of my own playing.   I believe he’s using the same model keyboard as me.   I go back in the resort and we all walk out together but I kick the door in anger.   I’m then conscience of how odd it is that there’s a wedding on a weekday morning.  That thought, plus the door kick, are the only connections between the resort scene and the rest of the dream.   Logically it makes no sense and can almost be considered bonus footage.

We’re now back at the a parking lot, and for some reason, my brother is with us.   I ask a few people where a car around here may be towed, but no one has any insights.   We now have a rental car, which has the outside body of my 1984 Cutlass Supreme but the interior is modern.  We leave the parking lot but need to make it up a hill before exiting. A cop is waiting at the top of the hill and asks me to stop, though given the size of the car I’m unable to stop as perfectly as he requests, and I roll a few feet backwards after the stop.  I back up and do this a few more times but the outcome is always the same. I explain to him that it’s the car, not me, and he laughs it off; seemingly agreeing that it’s just a quirk of the new 1984 Cutlass Supreme models.

We make it out of the driveway and past the cop but without any new leads. My wife expresses concern as she is now late for work and moments later receives a phone call. It’s her work, probably asking where she is, but in reality it’s the alarm and I wake up.

ANALYSIS

This one is difficult to analyze and it’s hard to describe this dream as anything more than random.  My wife has been driving more lately, but her awkward driving maneuver only started this strange progression of events.   My dreams often have a theme of frustration, where the goal is just out of reach but is never actually achieved.  While frustration was a theme here, the goal was never in sight.

There is a small connection I can make to the appearance of my high school car however.  The day before this dream I was at a car show.  Obviously there were no 1984 Cutlass Supremes on display, but I poked my head into one of the models and naturally inhaled.  I was instantly reminded of my first car.  My friend was quick to point out that I was smelling vinyl, but that takes all the fun out of it.  I like to think I was smelling bits of the 80s and 90s; a zesty combination of Bon Jovi music, McRibs and McLean spills, grass-stained jam short smudges and cigarettes.  In the end we were both right; it’s probably vinyl and cigarettes.