Occurred: 2002 Mar 25 (Monday morning)
A girl and I are on a bed, in a public place. We are in the USA, in a cinema where everyone watches the film on beds. Her and I take it in turns to stroke a cat that is wandering around on our bed. Despite her being beautiful and me being me, we are somehow chatting each other up. At one point I softly take her hand and stroke the cat with it.
Also on the bed is a machine (for some reason it is a Live Journal machine; it works that a person puts a message in it and the other person can read it a few moments later). Her and I use it and have a teasing conversation. I asked her name, but she didn't say.
Suddenly, we are in a car, in a very old car park near an old, large low-quality hotel. There is a freeway nearby, with cars whizzing past - none of them wanting to stop in this run-down part of town. A policeman wrenches open the car door and says "if you ever have bad luck, you better get out of here".
The car park is filled with armed police who have taken cover around all of the old and wrecked cars, pointing weapons at the hotel. I take the girl away. In the distance is an uninviting forest that looks dark and brooding, and the freeway has many cars going fast. There aren't many places for us to go.
There are two ramps going down to a smelly, old, dirty, disused place with tramps in. We go down because I want to be out of the line of fire. At the bottom of the ramp is a room, with vertical pillars as you'd find in a multistorey carpark.
I am wearing tough black combat trousers, a leather jacket and tough leather gloves. I am holding a large heavy-duty torch. There is more than one person down there, and they are hostile. She says "we should go back up" and I agree. For some reason we are going to go back up via the other ramp though, which means we have to walk quickly through the room.
Someone throws a knife at us. I pick it up. A well-built person stands in front of me with a big knife. I shout "no" at him. I make three similar pretend strikes at his hand, each time he moves out of the way. The third time, however, I know he is going to make a chop at my hand, so I only make half a strike and as his chop comes in, I make a quick slash and cut his hand.
He was surprised I tricked him. In the moment I make another quick slash at his other hand and cut it badly. There is a momentary stand off because I'm not a fighter and I don't know what to do next, and he is confused and thinks I'm really good! When actually that was lucky.
He leaps on to the girl. I jump on to him and press my knife into his back slowly by a few centimetres. I think about pushing it all the way in but I'm scared it could go into the girl.
The guy runs away. The lighting changes, it is still night time and now is very quiet. There is a feeling that something is changing. I realize all the police in the car park are no longer there, and the hotel is now deserted. Even the tramps have become still, asleep and seemingly they have all died and began to rot. A foul smell is in the air.
For some reason, "hell" is happening to us. The environment's death means that an area of hell is surfacing inside and out of the girl and I. It's strange and there is a period of time in the dream where I'm bodiless. Not floating or moving, just observing the dark decaying basement car park ethereally.
Using strong determination, I make the pair of us appear back in the car park outside the hotel on ground level. Momentarily she and I are there, and we are beginning to feel relief -- but something is wrong. We were too late, and there is no world for us to return to. We have been left behind.
We felt a moment of connectedness to each other, some emotion and sadness. A recognition that our short relationship boosted our sense of worth, because the relationship was innocent and simple.
Before my eyes, she turns into a crumbling, rectangular pile of scorched black rock and her humanness evaporates; she is dead forever. This happens because we've been left behind and can no longer exist.
A moment later I know I turn into a similar black pile of rocks. In the very last moment of the dream, I see the cold wind brushing over her and sending thick dust into the atmosphere as the black rocks that was once her begin to disintegrate into the dead atmosphere. I theorize that I will be blown into nothingness by the wind; all my strength was taken, but I didn't notice how or when.
The idea of just turning into rock and ash, and blowing away in the wind, made me feel melancholic in the dream. After it happened to the girl and I knew it was going to happen to me, I was resigned to it. There is disappointment that life is short and things are unfinished, but the inevitability prevented panic or desperation. It ends with a sigh.
There are many books available, more or less in dictionary format, that attempt to tell you what individual elements of dreams might mean. They're useless, although by drawing upon common human experiences, they sometimes sound about right if you share the general culture of the author. It's still best to count them as speculative waffle.
For more, see:
Here's what some my books say about some elements from this dream:
“Ashes are often interpreted as a symbol of good luck, especially of financial good luck. Sometimes ashes indicate a coming inheritance.”
This description seems completely irrelevant to the actual dream; I imagine she is writing of the ashen remains of relatives, hence the connection to inheritance.