Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream

Dreams tell us a lot about ourselves. Our fears, our desires. They can help us confront and deal with our past and prepare us for the future.

I have always been an active dreamer. Despite the title of this piece, I had the strangest dream two nights ago. I can usually determine what one of my dreams signifies, but this one defies me. It was the most vivid and detailed dream I have ever had.

It's like I was not even me in the dream. Nothing at all like me. And it lasted decades. I experienced an entire life in that dream. One that could not have been more different than mine.

It started out with the me-that-isn't-me as a boy. A member of a wealthy family. It seemed to take place somewhere in the past. Before my time. Like mid-20th Century.

We owned a race track and a restaurant next to it. There were car races on weekends and the restaurant catered to affluent people. A snack bar at the track supplied humble fare to the race fans.

I recall being young. Happiness, mischief, fights, meals, the races. I loved the races, and in real life I loathe NASCAR and that stuff.

I grew older and gradually realized that my family was involved in strongarm tactics from time to time. Not exactly mob stuff, but a little dirty business now and then. I was expected to take part in some of it, and one night I earned respect from my family and their employees by joining with several men in beating the hell out of some guy who was threatening our business in some way.

I didn't have to do that stuff much. I just had to get my hands dirty enough to be a part of it. I helped at the track and the restaurant some, but mostly the employees did all of that. I was idle a lot of the time. I had small romances, but nothing big.

Years passed, and the track began to show wear. Fewer people were coming, and we could not afford to repair it. I had to say goodbye to employees. More and more all the time. Business was falling off at the restaurant too.

One of the guys I went on that mugging raid came to visit and he and I mock sparred a little bit. He said that he was legit these days. Times were changing and that sort of thing was more difficult to do. We had a few beers and said goodbye. I never saw him again.

The once-grand restaurant became more like a greasy spoon. It was scaled way down and parts of the building were no longer used. My father and uncles were grim and getting increasingly sadder. Defeat hung over us.

Finally, we had an offer to sell the land that the track was on. We desperately needed money because I was middle aged, but my parents and aunts and uncles were old, and in need of medical help.

To save money we were tearing some of the place down. We intended to sell some of the scrap material. We were inexperienced, and a terrible accident happened. A lifelong friend of the family was crushed between a loader and a wall.

My family never recovered from that loss. The death of a loved one seemed to seal the doom that hung over us.

The old folks lost their homes and moved into cheap apartments. They died, one by one, fairly quickly. I had long ago given up my playboy apartment and was living in a rooming house.

At the end, I was old myself and still owned part of the old restaurant. It was sectioned off by that time, and other businesses owned parts of it. I had a small kitchen and people would come to a window and order chicken and biscuits. Not many did though.

All I had left were my memories of a life where my family lived like Kings and Queens. No wife, no children, no real friends.

I woke up feeling unbearably sad. I could not sleep any more that night, even though it was still very early in the morning. Hours before sunup.


Most of my dreams mean something to me. They reflect aspects of my life. This one befuddles me. It almost makes me believe in a past life. The life I lived in that dream has no resemblance my own in the real world. Where did it come from? What does it mean?