I'm sitting on a dock far away from the shore. I have various items floating on the water. I'm in a tranquil mood, as if writing in a journal. Not right this moment, but it is that same mood. Suddenly, the single drum stick floating on the water, moved two yards away. I can no longer reach it. I will have to swim for it. My dad, who's half in the water, but also half in another overlaid space, says I'll have to swim for it. Yeah, not right now.
I look at the other items floating on the water. One is a small case for glasses. I recognize it as a pink version of a case I bought just a few days ago. I would like to keep that one.
The stick - I don't know why I care about a single drum stuck - has floated away further. The other stuff has floated underneath the dock. I can't reach that no more either. Next, the dock itself starts to sink to water level. I need to get the stuff on the dock back on land. I see my mother in the backyard, although I know she won't be any help. She's more or less in her own space too.
Coming back from the backyard, a man has appeared near the far end of the dock. He's helping me by handing me the stuff I want to bring into safety. The water, and the dock, has really disappeared, but my attention goes mostly to what he gives me, and especially how. Lots of documents printed on A4, or hand written. I expect to get one nice stack, but he insists that all the separate sets need to stay separated. Every new set of a pages, he moved up an inch, creating a long fan of paper that I don't know how to hold. He gives me a second shifted stack that's even worse (my hands are empty, as if I brought the first stack on shore). I'm confused about the imagery of this. I would simply rotate sets by 90 degrees, to separate them. Why is the dream doing it different?
There's a large domesticated animal walking around in the empty basin. I'd say a horse. It walks around as if looking for a place to pee or poop, as if to mark it territory, like a dog. And the large objects it inspects for this, could be carriages or wagons. It's all a bit fuzzy.
The dream takes place in our actual backyard. Our dock is shorter.
Yes, I like these particular objects. I have two drum sticks, that I only recently found back. I bought a new case for my old childhood glasses, picked it up last Wednesday. What makes these objects relevant? I don't know, but I keep them nearby.
A friend in Arizona is strongly interested in horses. I never pay much attention to it, but we have horses, horse riding schools and horse breeders everywhere. Everywhere means, all of that is just a few steps away. Every once in a while girls will ride through the street on horses. Sometimes they make a ride with a carriage.
Thinking about it, why would I leave all this behind? The lake, the horses, the entire environment?
Letting go of stuff and preparing to depart in an unknown style, without even a hint of a destination?
The parents, who made this place a home to me, have become ghosts.
In the dream, I don't try to recover the objects. The rather useless stacks of papers and documents seem more important, but once handed to me, I don't know what to do with them.