I was out at night with my boyfriend walking around in the city. We were searching for the entrance to some underground event. At first we were walking across a pedestrian bridge. At the end of it were stairs that lead down to the street level. We hesitated on descending those stairs at first as it didn’t seem to lead anywhere that might host a secret party.
I looked over one side of the bridge and saw an old building that looked like an abandoned factory. The loading dock door was rusted, dirty and slightly ajar, unhinged from one of its hinges. It looked like a potential secret entrance to me so we went down the stairs. If anything I figured we would find a cool run-down space inside – an interesting adventure to share together, so we went in.
Inside was a short corridor that had many large and small pieces of scrap metal leaning against the walls. It made the pathway we walked through a tad hazardous as any misstep might result in scraping or stabbing oneself with rusty jagged metal edges.
Finally we lifted a piece of metal at the end of the corridor to reveal a hole in the wall. It was dark, with just a bit of light on the other side. We had no idea what it led to. We looked at each other, confirming our intention to explore and went through.
Then I remember waking up in a white cotton, scallop-lace edged hammock inside a spare bedroom in a house. I knew it was a spare bedroom because there were other oddball pieces of furniture laid out around the hammock so I knew someone set up the hammock to temporarily accommodate me. My boyfriend laid beside me, still asleep.
I stood up and opened the door to look into the hallway. This part starts to get fuzzy so I am not sure if I am making this up now.
I believe when I looked out, I knew this house was somehow related to my ex. Exactly how, I did not know. A woman about my age, no idea who it was now, greeted me. I felt instantly comfortable with her as if she was an old aunt, a family friend. She let me know that we should sleep in and get as much rest as possible. We were taken care of.
There may have been a little more to the dream but it’s fizzled from memory now.
I just want to mention that I remembered some of Saturday night/Sunday morning’s dream, waiting to write it down when I had time – right up to the point that I committed a few keywords from this morning’s dream to writing. So I guess the lesson is that I should always keep my recalls separate. Recall, write, repeat. No relying on my memory because I know that sucks…