#2021jul30

The dream took place in a seven-seater white city car. There were one driver, who happened to be my father, and seven passengers including myself. Four of the passengers sat on the middle seats: my three matrilineal cousins (they're brother and sisters) and grandmother. I forgot by whom the shotgun seat was occupied, but I'm sure it was a lady; so she was probably my mother. I sat in the back seat with a boy, my matrilineal cousin who's eight years younger than me but appeared much younger than how he should be in real life. We were the youngest people on board, which explains why we got the most inconvenient space.

The car was loaded overcapacity not only by an extra passenger but also some cardboard boxes and suitcases. The cargo was shoved into the rear space, taking up the room significantly until I and the young boy (let's call him D) couldn't properly be seated. We were about to embark from an unclear place to deliver some goods to my brother's dorm as he was already in a military school as a cadet. We — me and D — practically couldn't move from where we were when my father checked the rear space. He only took a quick glance and didn't close the door. He then went to start the engine and soon we hit the road.

As ardent as the passengers tried to urge the driver to stop the vessel, my father wouldn't budge. Only quite later that he briefly said, "Close it from where you are," referring to me and D. We, or one of us, had to close the back door of a moving vehicle, plowing our way through the sea of fragile cardboards and heavy suitcases.

The passengers protested. But that only triggered the driver to accelerate and remove the brake from his dictionary of safe-driving. He didn't care whether the road is straight, winding, empty, crowded, a forked road, a crossroad, bumpy, or intersecting with a railway. The car slid on and on erratically, ignoring the eerie screams of many pedestrians outside and angry passengers inside.

D couldn't stand to hear people screaming (although no one was hurt). He braced himself to move toward the door. Alas, his body was too small. The door handle was far beyond his reach while he had to make a grip to secure his body on his own. I stepped in to hold his hand. This way, his movement range widened, but it was still not enough for him to reach the door handle. It was a dangerous stunt, D persisted for a while before he gave up and went back to where he was.

In this dream, I split into two separated entities. There were Action-me and Observer-me. Action-me was the one holding D's hand, dressing in all-black. They were a projection just like every other person there. They were something to be observed, but they uniquely held the status of the main character whom I couldn't take my eyes off of. Observer-me was the conscious one. I saw through their eyes and was aware of the presence of everyone including Action-me. Observer-me took no physical shape (no limbs and glasses rim visible) nor possessed a voice since it was merely a third-person (limited) point of view. Easily said, I was there watching myself performed in my dream, like the eyes of CCTV cameras.

After D returned, I decided that it was my turn to try. It was not obvious what had occurred to the cargo, but my way to the door was pretty effortless. In no time, I had gripped the nearest grab handle to prevent myself from falling out of the car and tried to figure out how I would reach the door handle because my arm span, neither, was unable to reach it alone.

There was no stick or anything else that could function as a prolonged hook to assist me, and the only person available to hold my hand, D, was too small to support my weight. The car was going faster, but Action-me was adamant.

Then suddenly Action-me bent down. They stripped their shoes off first, followed immediately by their socks. Barefoot, they rose up again and strengthened their stance. One foot up, a short jump, for some milliseconds my palms were the only parts in contact with the car, and bingo, my toes were hooking the door handle. Action-me pulled their foot in and there it was, the back door was finally closed.

Observer-me watched everything without any thought other than "I don't consider doing that! Action-me can think autonomically!?!" Yes, it is baffling for your conscious point of view to witness the physical manifestation of your subconscious doing something clever that your conscious mind didn't think of at all. Even now I'm fully awake and still mind-blown.

When my father found out that I succeeded in his order, he just laughed. He laughed and laughed and with an unmistakable satisfaction, he began his lengthy lecture about persistence and bravery. He threw out comments about how spoiling a kid is not going to teach them anything. A job has to be done if it has to be done. An unfulfilled request from the noble command is a failure worth a lifetime of punishment or remorse.

"Look at them," he said.

"They eventually finished the deed and overcame their fears," he continued sneerily.

"How dare you, for what a price you have to pay! You've jeopardized us all and the people out there!" someone retorted.

"I'm a good drive," he responded.

At that point, both Action-me and Observer-me were pissed. Observer-me could do nothing, but Action-me didn't do anything. It is so unlike me to confront my parents, even in a dream.

The dream didn't stop there. It was a happy ending after all. The rest of the trip went fine. We made it to my brother's dorm and he somehow received the goods.

So that was it, an epic dream; neither a nice one nor a nightmare. My alarm rang in time and I woke up to pray. I must shake off the grudge to my father's projection in that dream, huh. Very interesting indeed, I'm mastering the art of advanced random dreams, but last night was one of a kind. It was structured, highly vivid, and relatively logical. In one word, impressive.

Maybe next time I'll have more dreams like this — or hopefully better.