Any dream interpreters out there, you’re welcome to offer input on this one, the dream I had just before waking up this morning.
I’m driving east on Highway 24, just coming out of the Caldecott Tunnel. Maybe someone is in my car with me, maybe someone isn’t. And if there is someone, I can’t identify who it is.
I look to my right, as we’re approaching the exit for downtown Orinda and see a truck with a very long and wide flatbed trailer. Tied with ropes to the top of the trailer is a huge, whale-sized carcass of a real rhinoceros. The dead animal is lying on its side, stiff. I can see its distinctive tough, rough, itchy looking hide.
“Wow,” I say to my mystery driving companion, “I need to get a picture of this for my blog! Wow,” I say to my companion, I’ve never seen a rhinoceros in real life, even in a zoo!”
(Never mind that this one is dead!)
So, I pull behind the truck so I can follow it. Somehow I know the destination: a piece of property at the top of a hill in Orinda. It’s maybe a well-known nature museum/preserve, or it’s some rich person’s private estate where they would display huge stuffed animals, such as this, and invite the public in to view them.
And maybe the woman who runs/owns this property is a 40ish blond with short hair, and I recently saw her photo in a local magazine. In the photo, she is standing in front of her sprawling Cape Cod-style home on top of the hill. In the background you can see more oak-covered hills and Mount Diablo. The story talks about her activism in schools and in the community and for her kids’ soccer league.
The dream skips to me, in my car, having driven up a windy Orinda road. I’ve temporarily lost site of the big truck with the dead stuffed rhino. I’ve also, mysteriously, lost my companion. I’m parked in a crowded lot used for, perhaps, a community park or center.
But I’m parked there, looking out for the truck and the rhino.
I see it! Behind oaks, climbing up an even narrower road. I put my car into reverse and slam my foot on the accelerator to back up …
Smack into the side of a silver-green Lexus SUV. And who is in the Lexus but the blond with the Cape Cod-style estate? There she is. And although she’s wearing sunglasses, I can tell she’s wearing a shocked, disconcerted look. Damn!
First, I don’t need to deal with a stupid collision right now. I’m in a hurry. I need to catch up with the truck and get my photo. Also, as it happens, a year or so ago, I reversed in a parking lot into the back of another car, that was pulling out at exactly the same time. I put a dent into the other car’s bumper, and had to deal with insurance and all that.
Second, I don’t want to annoy the person whose property I need to gain access to in order to take my wacky, crazy rhinoceros photo.
But then, I think, this is a dream! I can go back in time! That’s exactly what I do. I go back a few seconds, and I reverse perfectly, narrowly avoiding the blond’s silver green Lexus SUV as she drives it out of the lot and onto that road, to follow the big truck hauling the sad, dead rhinoceros.
Okay, as with all dreams, this one sort of fizzles out. I make it to the top of the hill, to the blond’s property. I’m there in time for the workman to start moving the rhinoceros carcass off the flatbed. But the rhinoceros is so huge! And with the camera I have, lens-wise or otherwise, I can’t get back far enough from the rhinoceros and the truck to capture the whole scope of this crazy image. I try. I try. I snap a few shots, but all I get are some images of the sides of its belly, a leg.
One perhaps key thing in this dream? I never see the rhinoceros’ head, including the distinctive rhinoceros horn. What could that mean, in dream world? What could any of this mean?