Backseat Driver

Last night I dreamed that I was driving. I didn’t know where I was driving to, I might have been lost, but it was more like I was just driving around aimlessly, without a destination. I do know that there was a person in the backseat that kept telling me I was going the wrong way. It was driving me crazy.

“Turn right here. Change lanes. This is a dead end street.”

I wanted to kill the son of a b, but the farther I drove, the more it became clear that almost every choice I made that was purely in spite of my backseat driver was wrong. I consistently found bumper to bumper traffic, dead ends, one ways, obstacles, and construction zones. I drove on in denial for what must have been hours, becoming more and more frustrated because it never seemed like I was getting anywhere, until I finally gave up. On the verge of a mental breakdown I lost all hope, and listened. The backseat driver told me to turn left, and I did. I found myself on a beautiful stretch of road, with orchards and gardens on both sides, stretching as far as I could see. There were no other cars, no construction, no potholes. It was the idyllic street. I kept listening to the person in the back after that, and witnessed many wonderful things. I was never harried, never forced to slow down, everywhere I went was at my own pace. Eventually my backseat driver directed me down a short dirt road that led to a beach. I decided to stop and rest for a while, and listen to the surf. I munched on grapes I had bought at a farm stand and watched albatross soar upon the wind. As I was sitting there I realized that I was in swimming trunks, and had a beach towel on the seat next to me. “This is where I always wanted to be” I thought. It occurred to me then that I should apologize to the backseat driver, and thank him for his navigational advice. I turned around to offer grapes, as a dove would an olive branch, but was astonished to find the back seat empty. It didn’t make any sense. He was there, I had heard him only moments before, guiding me down to the beach. I knew he hadn’t gotten out, I would have heard that, but where could he have gone?

Puzzled, I turned back around to gaze at the surf and contemplate the events that had led me to that spot. I thought back to the beginning, when I was ignoring the voice in the back seat, and making all the wrong decisions. I realized that I’d known in every instance that I was choosing the wrong direction, but stubbornly plodded on because I didn’t like being told what to do. It was only in losing hope, in desperation, that I gave in to the voice and finally found my way. It was only when I asked for help, however reluctantly, that I was able to help myself. I awoke before my alarm with a rare awareness. I felt like I had stumbled upon something profound, but what? What was my subconscious mind trying to tell me? What, if anything, could I learn from this dream?

Freud might say I have an Oedipus complex, and Jung might claim it symbolizes the path of my psyche, a shy animal running equal parts fascinated and frightened around the central truth, drawing ever nearer, but never fully understanding what the hell it is. What is the centre? I may never know, asymbolically. I think the dream is far simpler than all of that. I think it was merely trying to tell me to smarten up, listen up, but most importantly open up, and stop ignoring whatever it is that’s been trying to guide me throughout my life. I think it was trying to tell me to stop making the same choices, and start listening to those inner voices. Of course another important lesson learned from this particular dream is that if you ever hear a backseat driver say, “Let’s stop at this farm stand,” your only response should be, “That is a damn good idea.”