For Crying Out Loud

I had a dream last night. Parts of it were quite vivid and memorable. I don't quite remember how it started, but I think I was with Mendon and we had to rush off to this obscure place for an obsure reason. For another obscure reason, I left by myself on foot. That was the part of the dream that was not vivid or memorable. Now for the part that was. I was walking through a leafy neighborhood on a hilly street. There were two men and a woman arguing. The one man was shouting "Get out of my house!" over and over again. The other man was half dragging and half strangling the poor woman. I walked past them on up the hill, worrying that I should call the police. Up the hill, I came across some neighbors and asked them if they knew the people and should we call the police. (I didn't have a cell phone with me.) They didn't seem to think it was necessary as these people had been at it for years. I kept walking. And walking. As I walked, I was joined by some other people. I asked them where I was. They answered with a question of where I had been. I didn't know. They intimated that I might be suffering from senility. I felt confused, but not senile. The chaos of the first part of the trip made where I had been unimportant in a way.

I reached a crest of the hill and looked down on a valley vista. I couldn't see where the road went because of the trees and twists and turns. And the whole view seemed to twist and writhe mirage-like as I gazed at it. I was filled with an over-whelming feeling of panic because I didn't know where I was going or where the road went or what my destination was going to be, or even where I was coming from. As I stared, I became aware that though I couldn't see where the road went, I could see a segment of it. I could keep on going at least a little ways, until I came to another turn in the road, when I would have to reasses things.

Upon awakening, I realized that it was the perfect metaphor for where I am in my life right now.