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brightlotusmoonSo, I had an absolutely bizarre dream last night and I absolutely need to write down what I remember:
I'm able to drive. I'm in a little white Dodge Neon, which is important because I'm taking it to a mechanic garage for various maintenance things. After I park the car and get out, the dream takes very wild turns:
There are multiple and frightening methods of getting down to the mechanic's office itself, which in a sub-basement. Someone comes up to fetch me and leads me through a series of mechanisms. A shaky elevator lift similar to the one used in the TV series "Archer" as well as a Faraday cage. Metal stairs with crumbling plaster on the walls. A metal ladder with slim rungs. Once down into the garage, I meet the family of mechanics, who explain that due to certain circumstances - which in the dream were explained but which I cannot recall - they will not charge me for anything. I spend some time there. They ask one of their daughters to guide me back upstairs to the basement and then the street, where my car will be waiting for me.
The woman is in her early twenties, with long red hair, green eyes, and a tall slender athletic body. She limps on both legs which doesn't seem to hinder her speed and agility. In fact, when I'm having trouble keeping up with her with my cane and my own physical issues, she snaps at me. When I tell her to cut me some slack because I have a disability and I'm crippled, she says this: "I was never cut any slack. My family pushed me beyond it. I had to keep going. I never told anyone I'm crippled, so nobody knows. You have to do better than that. Don't tell anyone. Don't let anyone know, don't let anyone see."
I said, "I was born like this; I've never known anything else. People always saw no matter what. I explained. I educated. And you sound bitter." She pauses and says, "I wasn't born like this. It happened a few years ago when I was working and a car jack slipped and part of the cat fell on my legs. I guess I never thought of it being something intrinsic."
I tell her, "Well, for you it's an acquired disability, and it sounds like you've been forcing yourself to ignore it, right?"
She nods. She says that when she was little, she would have dreams of wild animals turning into cars and she knew she would always be in the family business, and becoming disabled nearly destroyed her. The majority of her family refused to let her rest after she recovered and demanded that she continue working through her pain and difficulties. She tells me that the choice was made for her - that her disability would be seen as a weakness, a shame, something to be pitied and tossed aside. She begins crying and then slamming her fists against a wall. I put my arms around her. We sit on the floor while she cries.
After some time, we hold hands and walk outside, where my little white Dodge Neon is waiting, washed and cleaned. It's very bright and sunny outside. The girl hugs me and thanks me and walks back into the garage.
The rest of the dream involves me going back and forth between diners and fast food restaurants for some reason.
When I woke up, I thought, "Did I just dream myself being internally ableist or was that just my brain recycling activism and advocacy against criticism?"
I am still not sure.
To Google for dream analysis!
I'm able to drive. I'm in a little white Dodge Neon, which is important because I'm taking it to a mechanic garage for various maintenance things. After I park the car and get out, the dream takes very wild turns:
There are multiple and frightening methods of getting down to the mechanic's office itself, which in a sub-basement. Someone comes up to fetch me and leads me through a series of mechanisms. A shaky elevator lift similar to the one used in the TV series "Archer" as well as a Faraday cage. Metal stairs with crumbling plaster on the walls. A metal ladder with slim rungs. Once down into the garage, I meet the family of mechanics, who explain that due to certain circumstances - which in the dream were explained but which I cannot recall - they will not charge me for anything. I spend some time there. They ask one of their daughters to guide me back upstairs to the basement and then the street, where my car will be waiting for me.
The woman is in her early twenties, with long red hair, green eyes, and a tall slender athletic body. She limps on both legs which doesn't seem to hinder her speed and agility. In fact, when I'm having trouble keeping up with her with my cane and my own physical issues, she snaps at me. When I tell her to cut me some slack because I have a disability and I'm crippled, she says this: "I was never cut any slack. My family pushed me beyond it. I had to keep going. I never told anyone I'm crippled, so nobody knows. You have to do better than that. Don't tell anyone. Don't let anyone know, don't let anyone see."
I said, "I was born like this; I've never known anything else. People always saw no matter what. I explained. I educated. And you sound bitter." She pauses and says, "I wasn't born like this. It happened a few years ago when I was working and a car jack slipped and part of the cat fell on my legs. I guess I never thought of it being something intrinsic."
I tell her, "Well, for you it's an acquired disability, and it sounds like you've been forcing yourself to ignore it, right?"
She nods. She says that when she was little, she would have dreams of wild animals turning into cars and she knew she would always be in the family business, and becoming disabled nearly destroyed her. The majority of her family refused to let her rest after she recovered and demanded that she continue working through her pain and difficulties. She tells me that the choice was made for her - that her disability would be seen as a weakness, a shame, something to be pitied and tossed aside. She begins crying and then slamming her fists against a wall. I put my arms around her. We sit on the floor while she cries.
After some time, we hold hands and walk outside, where my little white Dodge Neon is waiting, washed and cleaned. It's very bright and sunny outside. The girl hugs me and thanks me and walks back into the garage.
The rest of the dream involves me going back and forth between diners and fast food restaurants for some reason.
When I woke up, I thought, "Did I just dream myself being internally ableist or was that just my brain recycling activism and advocacy against criticism?"
I am still not sure.
To Google for dream analysis!
