nicholasThis dream is another foggy one but had some nice distinctive qualities. It was riddled with a fair amount of anger and rejection issues. I was championing a set of odd causes, anyway, moving on.
I remember driving across an enormous bridge in reverse. I had a whole car full of people and we were clearly trying to escape something. The bridge was packed with others attempting to evacuate. I was actually really enjoying the free-wheeling apocalyptic free-for-all that was the exodus. I was behind the wheel of what felt like a 60′s era, white, Toyota Corolla hatchback. It felt really beefed up and like it had way more horsepower than was appropriate. Strangely, in the car with me and my friends were some Mexicans who were clearly attempting to make a border crossing and somehow gotten planted in my car. They clutched each other as we careened around traffic. As we approached the center of the bridge I threw the wheel in one direction and began driving in reverse, looking over my shoulder and firing a really ornate .45 handgun out the window. I remember it had amazing engraving and inlay in the handle and I had loaded it earlier that day as I intended on taking revenge on someone. I realized, as I was driving backwards, that I ought to expend all my ammo in advance to ensure I didn’t hurt anyone.
Fast forward in dream-time. I am inside an enormous, loft-like boardroom of sorts. It has high ceilings, black-iron windows, and beautiful, luminescent, warm wood floors. There is a huge table in the middle of it and seated around it are a bizarre array of what I can only assume were crime-bosses. They weren’t of the generic Italian, Chinese, Russian variety. They were attractively dressed, in their 20′s and 30′s, of both genders, and most of them, had really good hair. They might have been a group of mafia-esque designers and creative types but I couldn’t be sure. There was a heated discussion raging about the fate of one of our members who were not present. It was clear that I was considered one of their number, in that I was clearly a mob boss or at least a consigliere.
As the group debate progressed it became evident that there was a lack of faith in our absent colleague who was evidently female and was considered to be a liability. I for some reason felt very loyal towards her and fiercely protective and had a sudden impression that she was going to be “rubbed out” as a result of this meeting.
It was also the case that once we left the room there was going to be some sort of hand-to-hand gang war against some other group and we were busy discussing how to arm ourselves with random weapons. I had a handful of nails clenched in rows between my fingers. There were several enormous bowls of freshly washed, plump blueberries in front of several of the members. I became very agitated about the decision to eliminate our mutual friend. I began angrily brandishing my nail-hands at various members. I walked around the table several times, grabbing people at random by the hair and holding the nails at their necks. I remember screaming that if I heard she was injured at any point I would not hesitate to murder or maim my colleagues in the heat of battle when they least expected it.
I would periodically jam huge handfuls of blueberries in my mouth while I was ranting. I specifically remember examining the bowl for big fat plump ones while holding a handful of someone’s hair in my hands. I woke up surprisingly agitated and totally confused by all the anger bubbling inside me.
CRYING FIGHTING HINDU DEITIES MENTORS NEW AGE SHOPPING MALLS