Huh...
I guess I'm subconsciously more attached to my car than I thought.
I had this dream last night that I was some kind of ambassador with a bunch of other people (I think they were mainly people from VCU) and we were on our way to some big conference. I got there late, however, and had to check in after everyone had already gone inside. I had driven myself there and parked just outside the big official building. To complicate things though, the lady at the desk didn't appear to speak English and we had to communicate through charades (figuring out that I needed to take all my jewelry off and stuff). Finally I had to show her my ID in order to park near the building, apparently--but I had left my ID in a different wallet! So I was sent out to move my car--but suddenly my car was gone! A whole row of cars had been moved because they weren't allowed to park there. And they had failed to tell anyone where they moved said cars...And then I stared crying, like, fountains of tears because I felt like I had failed in some way and I might never see my car again.
Then, after a long while of wandering around and weeping, I found my car and ran over, hugging the car and saying, "I'm so sorry!"
I...don't quite know what to make of it.
I had this dream last night that I was some kind of ambassador with a bunch of other people (I think they were mainly people from VCU) and we were on our way to some big conference. I got there late, however, and had to check in after everyone had already gone inside. I had driven myself there and parked just outside the big official building. To complicate things though, the lady at the desk didn't appear to speak English and we had to communicate through charades (figuring out that I needed to take all my jewelry off and stuff). Finally I had to show her my ID in order to park near the building, apparently--but I had left my ID in a different wallet! So I was sent out to move my car--but suddenly my car was gone! A whole row of cars had been moved because they weren't allowed to park there. And they had failed to tell anyone where they moved said cars...And then I stared crying, like, fountains of tears because I felt like I had failed in some way and I might never see my car again.
Then, after a long while of wandering around and weeping, I found my car and ran over, hugging the car and saying, "I'm so sorry!"
I...don't quite know what to make of it.