Dreams...

I don't usually remember my dreams, mainly because they never make any sense at all. So I thought I'd share the last one I did remember, from a couple of weeks ago.

I was driving downtown to the building that the Cannery is in with my mom in her Subaru. We were going to some type of luncheon, but she was in a hurry because she was on her lunch break or something. So we went into the Cannery and there was a buffet set up, and our church pastor was the one dishing out food. My mom and I grabbed plates and got in line. While I was in line, a man cut in front of me. I didn't say anything, just let him go, because I usually don't really say anything in those types of situations. My mom got her food, then waited for me for a second, then said, "You're taking too long," and walked outside. I got out of line and went outside to find her. She was talking to someone I assumed to be her friend, and this lady had a monster truck. My mom got in the monster truck and drove off. I chased after her because I didn't have any other way to get home. She turned the monster truck around and slammed on the gas. She hit me with the car and I careened off the windshield and flew about 20 feet. Strangely enough, I didn't wake up as I hit the ground. I kind of floated out of my body and looked down at myself laying there. Then I woke up.

Pretty random. I'm pretty sure my mom doesn't harbor homicidal tendencies towards me, nor would I fly off the windshield of a monster truck if I was hit by one; I'm way too short and would go right underneath... Freud (sorry, Sociology major speaking here...) would probably say I have unresolved tensions with my mother and my pastor, and that I fear abandonment. Or something like that. But maybe dreams aren't meant to be interpreted; I'd like to think they're just scraps of thoughts and feelings that we were too busy to pay attention to during the day.