Dream of: 20 June 2019 "GPS"
My old friend Donna Griffiths (an internet dream journalist in the 1990s) has been visiting me on the 386-acre Gallia County Farm, and now we are leaving. Donna (around 30 years old) is driving and I am riding in the passenger seat of the car. As we are pulling out, I notice a sharp, old (probably from the late 50s), dark-blue Cadillac with luxuriant fins. I think a rich person in the Cadillac may want to buy the Farm.
After we have travelled perhaps twenty miles, we reach a small town which I have heard of before, but did not know was so close. As we pass an imposing, gray-stoned building, I am surprised to see the words "Gregg County Courthouse" written in large letters on the huge, wide lintel. The name on the courthouse makes me think that we are in Texas because I seem to remember a Gregg county in Texas.
We continue down the street and pass a tall, colorfully decorated cart from which food and novelties appear to be sold. I look around me more carefully because I think this area is a tourist attraction. Indeed, off to my right I see an entire rectangular block which is set off as an amusement park complete with a tall roller-coaster. The entire block seems to be sunk down perhaps a meter lower than the streets around it, and carnival-like activity seems to be taking place there. I think that Donna and I might go down in the park the next time she visits. I say something to her about it.
She continues driving. When she finally slows down and stops for a moment, I realize that she is using a GPS device. Now I understand why the route looks so strange to me: she is following a digital map on the GPS which is showing her the best route. I am impressed how she has been able to travel through so many different streets, and I tell her that I need to learn to use something like that. At first I thought that she might have been using a paper map, but now I see that she is using the GPS. I do not know how to use a GPS, but I think it is something which I need to learn.
As she starts to pull out, I see a dog outside and I am reminded that we have a dog in the back seat with us. The dog with us looks like Kirsten (a brindled pit-bull which I once owned for a few years). Suddenly, I think Kirsten is the dog which I see outside, and I holler to Donna, "Stop!"
When Donna stops, I hop out of the car, but quickly see that the dog outside is a lighter colored brown. As I climb back into the car, I see that the Kirsten-look-alike is still in the back seat.
Donna continues driving until she heads up a steeply inclining narrow street between buildings abutting the sidewalks on each side of us. She has difficulty ascending, and the car seems to be stalling out. Donna has to back up, and start back up again. I reach out and grab hold of something to help pull the car upward.
When we reach the top, it seems as if we have ascended some stairs and arrived in a room which seems like a poor tenement home. No longer in the car, Donna, Kirsten, and I walk through the humble room. Two young girls (probably 4-5 years old) are huddled together on the floor. I tell Donna that I do not like going through someone's house like this.
Donna reaches a door which has two locks on it: a bolt lock and a hook and eye lock. As Donna unlocks the door, I think I should tell the two girls to lock the door back after Donna and I pass through. I do not like opening the door of someone else's home and exiting like this.
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