Dream: Ghost Town of a Metropolis

Dream Sept. 26

I remember in the dream the view like that of a drone panning over parking lots filled with cars. Every advertisement and image is replaced by Lightning McQueen from the movie Cars.

…

I remember an old-fashioned single-room schoolhouse. Rows of wooden benches instead of chairs. Black chalkboard and large windows to let in light because there is no electric lighting. Am I a girl in this dream? I know at some point, I see a mirror, or rather a window with an exact  copy of the classroom, the students, the teacher, and even me. But I remember that instead of seeing myself, I saw a young girl, probably elementary or middle school age.

…

I go to the schoolhouse everyday. I often leave something behind on accident. Sometimes I show up at school only to realize that I forgot my notebook. Sometimes I show up at school and find that I’d left my backpack there yesterday. I am so forgetful and irresponsible that I leave my belongings behind. Oh dear.

…

In a building that looks like my church but I believe is meant to be a transportation center in outer space or an exoplanet based on the context of the dream. There are so many people crowded here. So many people want to go somewhere. I want to go as well. Eventually, it’s my turn to board. I crowd onto a spaceship that is only a few rooms in size.

…

Lightning McQueen depicted on every wall, but then I find a building that is free from him. It looks like a large gas station, but at the time, I thought it was someone’s house. The canopy over the gas pumps nearby, the service shack separate from the building itself. Then the fast station itself was orange brick. I peeked in the dark windows, seeing counters and shelves inside. It seemed well stocked, I thought that surely someone lived here. But the lights were off. Perhaps they weren’t home?

…

The class room is separated in two columns of benches. There are benches on the left side of the room and benches on the right side of the room. A passageway in the middle for the teacher to pass through. I sit in the right column closer to the front of the classroom. The benches are sparsely populated. There is approximately one kid for every two rows of benches. Though, most all kids sit in groups. So there are about 5 empty rows between groups or 3 or four kids sharing one or two benches. I am one of the rare few that doesn’t sit next to anyone else. To my right is a staircase leading to fenced open halls outlining the room above us. People could stand up there and look down, but no one is up there right now, nor do I expect there would be a reason for anyone to go up there.

…

I knock on the dark window pane of the gas station. “Anybody home?” I call out. No one answers. I try to find the door to let myself in but I circle the whole building and see no entrance. I must have missed something. There must be a way in. As I encircle this building, trying to get in, a black box-like car drives up to one of the gas pumps. The driver side window rolls down. I can’t distinguish any features from the silhouette inside, and the voice is annoyingly both androgynous and of an unfamiliar dialect. Its words were profound, though I don’t remember what it said. The basic idea it conveyed was that of a vacant metropolis, overtaken by a monopoly. A once spiraling nexus for commerce now abandoned and desolate. Worse yet, it introduced the idea that I was being followed, tracked, hunted. Something in this city is disturbed by my presence and isn’t the type to kindly ask me to leave. The spark that caught my attention was an offer for something new. Not a promise of protection, but for a better chance at survival. But it meant I’d have to work for this person. I didn’t like the idea of working for someone else, so I dismissed the offer. The person sat in their car, waiting. They were confident that I’d reconsider and come to them, begging for the chance they offered.

…

The spaceship was crowded. I could hardly walk without bumping into someone. What’s worse, there was nowhere to sit. Chairs take up space and add unnecessary weight, so this spaceship went without such accessories. I squirmed uncomfortably. I headed for the hall to leave the room. On my way out, I nearly bumped into Dr.  Medicross. She wore a white lab coat and her ID pinned to her coat pockets. She had yellowish-gray thick stick-like hair arranged like a thorn bush. I wandered the three or four rooms of the ship, looking for somewhere less crowded. But everywhere was the same. Dark with only a few light strips on the side of the walls. I sighed in resignation and returned to the original room. I’d have to make the best of it. I returned to this, the largest room, and noticed that it wasn’t quite so crowded as I remembered it. When I had wandered the ship, everyone I saw had been staying put. Only a few people had moved between rooms. It didn’t matter where they went, I was just glad to have some breathing room.

…

The teacher was a man with flat black hair perfectly even like a cap on his head. He wore black shirt with buttons from collar to bottoming. I think he may have also been wearing a tie. I think he might of been of Asian descent, but it’s hard to tell such exact appearances in dreams (which is why I rarely mention them). I don’t know what he was teaching. With no PowerPoint or projector, no assignment handouts, he was simply lecturing. There is no chance of me remembering anything from a lecture in a dream. I had a hard time paying attention. I was so thirsty. I wanted my water bottle. I was having trouble remembering where I had seen it last. I recalled it was in a dark room crowded with people. I had been wandering from room to room when I had set it down on the floor. The teacher called on a student from the left side of the room to answer a question. I became aware that I didn’t know the answer… or even the question. My thirst balled up into a strange sense of dread.

…

I left the gas station. I didn’t like the feeling of that person sitting in their car watching me. I kept a mental map of where that gas station was in relation to me because I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. It captured my attention. The skyscrapers and tall buildings didn’t often have doors. Their entrances had battered hinges loosely hanging from the doorframe, indicating there had once been a door.