In the dream, I was at my parents house at night and had to leave for work, but when I went outside, my new car was gone. I looked everywhere, but it had apparently disappeared. When I went back inside and told everyone, no one seemed to care about how mysterious this was, how fucking frustrated it made me.
Eventually I went back outside and, to my relief, found that the car was there again. Wasting no time, I hopped in and started it up, noticing the time in the process — I was not yet late for work, as I had feared. I then started honking the horn to alert one of my sisters (or some girl) inside the house that I was ready to leave, as I was supposed to give her a ride. She didn’t come outside, however, and I was determined not to leave the car again in order to go get her, fearing it would once again vanish, and so kept up honking.
Somehow, I ended up going back inside anyway, only realizing once I was in there that I had somehow absent-mindedly left the car despite my fierce determination not to do so, which endlessly frustrated me.
Once back outside, my suspicion is confirmed: the car is gone yet again. I also vaguely recalled how something else had mysteriously vanished earlier in the dream, though I’ve maintained no memory of what it was.
There are a few things I noticed about this dream. First, I’ve been reading the first book in David Paulidies’ Missing 411 series for the last day or two, which I received through the local library. It deals with mysterious disappearances of people from national parks, which likely inspired the disappearing car (and whatever vanished earlier) from the dream.
My fear of being late for work in the dream might have something to do with the fact that I called off work Thursday night. I’ve been trying to stop drinking, but I was angry and depressed and caved in, only to drink too much on Wednesday night and pay for it due to my utter stupidity when I work up early on Thursday evening for my weekly third shift. I was horribly hungover; my head was spinning, I was constantly vomiting. The last thing I wanted to do was call off work, but as the time to take my shower and leave approached I didn’t seem to be getting any better, and my frustration with myself grew to a fever pitch.
There was a moment at the end of work on Wednesday when I found myself in the third-person witnessing perspective, observing my thought processes as, while I mopped the dining room, I attempted to justify buying beer on the way home. It was as if I was watching some automatic program playing itself over in my head, which disturbed me. I then found myself following through with it — much like how I suddenly found myself leaving my car behind in the dream to go back inside the house.