I drove eleven hours in one day to spend a few days with my son David and his wife Liz. My hearing is too damaged to enjoy music or books on CD, so driving has become visual and cinematic, a meditation on the changing world.
In dreams, I’m often behind the wheel of my Subaru. Sometimes there’s a problem. The car rolls toward a ditch. I come to a roadblock or get lost. I drive blindfolded or without headlights. Despite the hassles, my dream car and I get back on the road and keep going.
After I arrived in North Carolina, I sent a text to a friend. “My driving endurance amazes me,” I wrote. “I need to reconsider the way I interpret driving in dreams.”
Marion Woodman and Elaine 2003
When exploring driving dreams, I tend to focus on the hazards. It’s not surprising. I’ve had a challenging decade with my mother going down with Alzheimer’s, my husband and only brother with cancer, and now my one-hundred-year-old mother-in-law needing constant support from health aides and me. At the same time, hearing loss and Meniere’s Disease symptoms took a physical toll on my body.
Years before my husband Vic’s illness, I told Marion Woodman a dream: My car rolls backwards into deep dark water. I can’t steer. I can’t save myself.
Marion raised an eyebrow. “You have to be very careful,” she said in a deep voice that meant business. The dream was a warning about sinking into depression and despair. After Vic died, I had to be more vigilant than ever.
But what if I look at driving as a symbol of competence in the face of challenge? I made it through the roadblock. I found my way despite the dark. Helpers rescued me and got me car back on the road.
Susquehanna River
As I drove south, I was alert and attentive. My body didn’t hurt. I wasn’t sleepy. My sidekick Willow snoozed behind me in the Subaru hatchback, never once asking, “Are we there yet?”
I didn’t fret about getting there. I certainly didn’t fret about writing. It wouldn’t get dark until 9 pm. I had nothing to do except move ahead, mile by mile.
I admired the rolling hills along the Alleghany Mountains. I breathed in the width and length of the mighty Susquehanna River. I hit a busy area in southern Pennsylvania for an hour or two. In West Virginia, the traffic lightened and the Blue Ridge Mountains loomed ahead. Then east on Rt. 66 and south through Virginia horse country. Thirty minutes of construction delays and backed up traffic near Rt. 95. Smooth sailing the last two hours into Franklin County, North Carolina.
On the deck in North Carolina
I need this sense of competence and confidence as a writer. I need faith that if I stay focused, I’ll get there. I’ve done it before. I can do it again. No speeding. Take a break when I get tired. Keep going.
In a few days, I’ll have another eleven hour driving meditation as I travel north. This time I plan to pay attention to how capable I feel behind the wheel. I’ll notice I’m not anxious about traveling on my own. I’ll remind myself I always get there.
Just keep driving. Just keep writing. I can do this. Word by word.
***
Do you gain a new perspective on life and yourself when you take a road trip? Do you have dreams about driving? For a blog about buying my sturdy Subaru Impreza, see The Woman Wants Red. For another blog about visiting my family in North Carolina, see Love Infusion.
Yes, you can do this. You are doing this, word by word. And nobody does it better than you do, dear Elaine ♥
Thank you, Marty. You are so generous. I’m back home and grateful to be here.
Elaine, I used to have lots of dreams about driving and getting into trouble similar to yours. In one in particular I couldn’t get my foot off the gas pedal but I did stop in time before crashing into the car in front of me. I believed it was about going too fast in life and and making a real mess of it.
I admire you for doing such a long drive and wish you the best on your return trip. I can drive for about 6 hours and that’s it. My body doesn’t like to sit for longer than that, even with stops to stand up and stretch.
Thanks for your comment, Joan. I drove home yesterday and all went well. My dreams often referred to the chaos of my life. Even though Vic was sick for two years, it was impossible to figure out what would come next. I couldn’t imagine a future without him until I was in it. I didn’t think I’d stay at our home, but I have. I didn’t know my work as a women’s health counselor would no longer feel right and I would focus on writing. I didn’t know where I was going and the dreams made it clear that I was lost. It helped to work with a Jungian therapist and focus on those dreams so I could see where I was and how I might deal with the situation. Start over? Keep going? Take the long way but get there? Slow down? Go faster? Forget the plan? Each dream related to what was happening in my life at the time. There was plenty of confusion and despair to work through.
Nice wheels Elaine! And wow, I admire you girl! That’s a long drive all by your lonesome to boot. Sure you had snoring company in the back, lol, but really, you’re a powerhouse. I just don’t think I would drive alone for that long with 2 good ears and the radio. 🙂 Perhaps next time you’ll consider flying? 🙂
Debby, I live 45 minutes from the airport. My son lives an hour from an airport. There are no direct flights between Ithaca, NY and Raleigh, NC. So with travel to and from the airport, getting there early, and spending all day in planes and terminals, it takes as long to fly as it does to drive. And sometimes longer if flights are delayed which happens all too often. I’ve flown many times, but prefer driving. Plus, Willow gets to come on the trip when I drive and I get to see the beautiful river and mountains. If I can’t drive it in a day, I fly.
Good for you Elaine. And it does make sense. And hopefully Willow doesn’t fall asleep on you and leave you lonely. I’d have to imagine the scenery is worth the price of admission. 🙂
Willow falls asleep immediately, Deb. Important thing is I don’t get sleepy behind the wheel. I drive along with a thermos of green tea and fascination with the beauty along the way. And sometimes a touch of irritability about road construction, but there wasn’t much of that.
Glad you enjoyed and arrived safe, both ways. <3
I felt as though I was driving with you and Willow to NC watching the cinematic landscape float by.
You probably know the quote by E. L. Doctorow, “Writing is like driving at night in the fog. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
Yes, I have dreamed about driving. My most vivid memory involves driving blind-folded, probably a metaphor for fear of the unknown.. Selling our house after 37 years feels like taking a car out of the garage and trying to drive it after it’s been sitting for a long, long time. Like you, wanting to visit David and Liz, we shall focus on the goal. Safe trip home, Elaine.
I love that Doctorow quote, Marian. The woman who leads the writing groups I’ve attended for seven years introduced me to it. It informs my writing and helps me take a deep breath and one more step.
I’ve had more than a few dreams of driving blindfolded or being unable to open my eyes. Lots of fear in those dreams. I understand about the house. I’ve been in mine since 1972. Now that I’ve returned home, the clearing will resume. It was fun taking a few things to my son, especially a stuffed animal I’d made him when I was pregnant–my own design and needle work and it’s still in one piece. I was afraid it would fall apart if I cleaned it, so I took it to him as it was so he could see it after many years. He washed it carefully, dried it, and brushed it. It held up pretty well, although some of the embroidery is disintegrating. I took photos, of course.
Elaine, I love this! I also just drove down to NC from RI with my son on Monday (12 1/2 hours for us!) and I agree with you completely. Long drives are a meditation and always invigorate rather than enervate me–like writing itself!
You must drive along Rt. 95. I go on little used highways through central Pennsylvania along the Susquehanna River and through parts of the Allegheny Mountains. I only hit crushing traffic when I get close to 95. So I can cruise along and enjoy the scene. I had to stop a few times to take notes. Coming home = thinking about writing again. Trying to keep the anxiety out of it and just let the juice flow.
Your self-awareness, resilience, and can-do attitude are so inspiring, Elaine. You’ve had so much to deal with, yet you always face it head-on and manage to find meaning in it. And the metaphor of journey is perfect. This is such a beautiful and practical lesson on how to handle life’s bumps in the road.
Your comment, “I need faith that if I stay focused, I’ll get there” really resonated. My own examples: I’ve had many driving dreams, especially in the early years of dreamwork. They don’t come often any more and when they do there’s less anxiety, more trust. They used to take place at night on dark, curvy roads and I’m usually worried about going too fast but have trouble putting on the brakes, either because I can’t reach them or because I’m in the back seat and can’t climb into the driver’s seat. After years of dreamwork I began to get the message: I’m being driven by forces I don’t understand and can’t control and this is causing me a lot of anxiety. I need to slow down. Reflect. Take my time. Pay attention. Stay mindful of my inner and outer life.
In the most recent driving dream from just a few months ago I was sitting against the inside right wall of the car with my right side toward the windshield and my left toward the backseat. I could see both ways, out and in. It was evening, but the road was well lit and the car was moving at a moderate speed. There was no one in the driver’s seat and it was as if I had something to do with the driving. I noticed the car was veering off the road a bit onto the grassy green shoulders so I focused on steering more carefully and was somehow able to do that from where I sat. 27 years of dreamwork is making a difference. I’m grateful that “Dream Mother” wanted me to know that.
I didn’t know the Doctorow quote but love it! Thanks to Marian for that. I’ll remember and use it.
Jeanie
I love your examples, Jeanie. It’s always nice to see a new driving skill in dreams. Looking to the conscious and unconscious. Looking forward and back, into light and dark, right and left. All sorts of wonderful opposites.
I had a few out of control driving dreams when I was still working with Marion Woodman but before Vic became ill–so 2000-2005. I don’t think I had any while Vic was sick, but I will check. After Vic died, I had many driving dreams, nearly all including a struggle. Besides the kind I mentioned in this post, there were “where are the car keys?” dreams and “where did I park” dreams and “who stole my car” dreams. My sense of identity or self-knowing was shattered and I had no idea how to get anywhere at all much less knowing where it wanted to go. I haven’t had one of those for a while. Now that I’m home again and reunited with old dream journals, I’ll look at the sequences. Maybe five or more years ago, a few years after Vic’s death when I was getting my feet under me again, I had a memorable driving dream with a blocked road. I returned home because there was no way through and found a beautiful large egg in my front yard with a huge baby bird pecking its way into the world. (I painted the image, so remember it well.) By the end of the dream, I knew I could get where I wanted to go, but had to take the long way round.
I love that Doctorow quote and have it on the outside of a few small notepads.
This writing means so much to me. I relate to this so deeply.
For a while after my husband was killed in a motor vehicle crash, I could not drive. I was frightened to drive. Frightened of hurting someone else.
But I have been driving for many months now, during the 13 months my husband has been dead. Driving gives me confidence in myself. After what I have lived through, I know I can do most anything. Driving means freedom, independence, it means I am moving forward through life, not being stuck in one place. It gives me so many possibilities. I feel safe and secure in my Cyprus green Subaru Outback. I named my little car, Rue. The first brand new car I ever bought, a couple of years before my husband died. He pointed out the color and I fell in love with it.
Rue and I love to travel together.
Now, as I prepare to sell our home, and most of the material items I do not want to store, or no longer have use for, I have a vision. My vision is this, my vision is me, behind the wheel of Rue, after our house is sold and the few material items I have left in storage, only the necessities I need to live in my car and I am looking out the windshield, my husband’s ashes beside me in the passenger seat, and I am deciding which way to drive. I have no home and no responsibilities. Only space and possibilities.
Wow, Deb. That sounds like a vision that can be realized. I bought my first car without Vic last year. A red Subaru Impreza hatchback so my dog has a place to ride behind the seats. Before that, I drove the car Vic and I bought the fall he got sick, a larger blue Subaru. It lasted nine years and 150,000 miles, but had to go. I thought it was a good change since the car that had appeared in many problematic dreams was the car Vic and I bought together. The red Subaru is reliable when I’m awake and in dreams.
Yes to moving, not being stuck, trying and succeeding at getting through roadblocks or detours, finding our way in a new world. I’m working to clear out my house of all things that can be released although I’m not quite ready to move. I’m not a packrat or hoarder, but have too much stuff. Bought a paper shredder. Already gave some stuff away and have boxes of books to go to the library book sale. There are many more books. They’re hardest for me, especially if Vic wrote in the margins which he often did, but I’m doing it, book by book. I love your image of only space and possibilities. Let me know what happens next.
Having driven 11 hours in a day many times I can appreciate the endurance required. Interestingly enough, most of my hours on the road are driven in silence simply because I prefer it that way. Also, this northern person has driven from Charlotte, NC back to Canada and always remember the beautiful scenery along the way, that, until the Dakotas where the roads became icy with snow.
Your dreams about driving seem to say, there are obstacles but none you won’t overcome. As we learn over the years, life is about experiences and relationship. You do both well.
Thanks for commenting, Norma. From NC to western Canada. I’m impressed. I have a close friend in AZ. Sometimes I imagine driving there with Willow to spend a month in the winter. You make me think it’s possible. One day, one mile at a time. I looked back through dreams in the last three years and haven’t had any of those impossible obstacle dreams (such as eyes won’t open or blindfold is stuck in place) for a long time. I had so many after Vic died. I had one slightly unnerving car dream after a challenging experience early this year, but even in that I was constantly reassured that all would be well. I seem to be firmly established in my new identity and sense of self.
The night before the Orlando catastrophe, I dreamed a man grabbed me in a public shopping area. I kept yelling to people “call 911.” Everyone ignored me until a workman passed by and told the man to leave me alone. The attacker ran. I still wanted to call 911, fearing this guy would grab someone else. I don’t think of myself as being prescient or particularly intuitive, but maybe it comes with being a crone.
I admire your courage, Elaine. I no longer make long drives by myself, but remember when I drove alone 11 hours from Kentucky to Newfield to visit my daughter. So happy she’s only 20 minutes away now!
I can never seem to control the car in my driving dreams–sort of like my life. I think the message for me is to stop trying to control it.
That’s an excellent message, Lynne. Did you live in Kentucky or did your daughter? It sounds as though you did. I’m glad she’s close, too. It’s too hard to get to NC by plane and my dog loves to go and be with my son’s three dogs. Since there isn’t a better solution for visiting this son, driving is practical. The courage came second. Before writing about this, I began writing about other aspects of our visit, but began considering what dreams and the long drive tell me about my comfort in my new life.
Next week, I hope to have more to say about NC adventures and what actually happened there.
Dear Friend, So glad you are home.I just wanted to say that even tho I got the news that I will probably have to have both knees redone yesterday,I know I will be okay because I have gone through all this type of surgery before and I will finally be able to walk correctly again.The refurbishing is nearly done now so my kitchen is disabled friendly and the windows are glorious. I love to cook so family and friends can hangout comfortably now .I have to lose weight,ugh.But the club pool calls and also we bought a step ladder thingy so I can climb on the boat.it is so true that once we have achieved some task it is easier the next time.Your pep talk was a pep talk for me too.Thanks so much..
Oh, Alicia. Your poor little knees. You’ll have to find a few months for full knee immersion. It seems to be part of the deal to accept that healing takes a consuming commitment. (The same might be said for weight loss.) Do you know if you’ll do both at once? Your new kitchen will help you get through this and you’ll come out with a sturdy natural stride.
My son and his wife cooks delicious food in large quantities. He lost 100 pounds doing this and she lost 35–and they’ve kept it off. Very little sugar or flour in their daily diet, although they allow treat days. High protein and more vegetables than you can imagine–and I can imagine lots of vegetables. Mostly grilled vegetables from the garden right now, but with good protein sources, no one is hungry. For me, the discipline is saying no or at least not now to sugar. You can do this for the gifts it will give.
Oh yes. I come up with all sorts of great ideas and problem solving while driving long distance. That is the best part except for the hugs and kisses upon arrival. I no longer have many opportunities for long drives and I miss that.
I don’t recall having driving dreams. Lately, I’m in deep water or in a boat in deep water where there are very large fish. I’m fearful they will eat me but they never do. And sometimes I dip my toe in to “see” if they are still there. All sorts of possible metaphors come to mind. Am I in over my head? Fishing for answers? Testing the waters? All possibilities for further exploration.
A kindred spirit, Monica. I have a note pad out yesterday and occasionally pulled to the side of the road to jot down an idea or two. Arrival is best with greetings and a delicious dinner. At my son’s house, sunset on the porch with the dogs the visit, too.
I’m not a dream therapist, but I look at my deep water dreams as the unconscious–sometimes murky and threatening, but sometimes full of surprising unknown riches. This is a common way to look at deep water dreams in Jungian Psychology. When my brother was dying, he told me he had a vision of me traveling in a boat across deep water and going through a border to get to him. He wasn’t interested in dreams and didn’t have visions, but at the end of life, that was the image that came. I’m glad he trusted me to share it. It felt right to be crossing a great deep unconscious layer of shared experience and moving through a border to other realms to be with him in those last weeks.
I love road trips, and especially driving the four hours to my mother’s house in Massachusetts. For some reason, I’m more creative when I’m driving or walking. Much of the time I will be thinking out the week’s blog post or what to make for a sister’s birthday as I drive. I pull over to the side of the road often to jot things down, as I once almost got into an accident trying to drive and write at the same time. One day I know I will have to give up driving. My mother still drives at 90 years old but I know I won’t be on the road that long. For now though: have GPS will travel.
I read Anne Lamott’s ‘Bird by Bird’ many years ago. I think she’s the one who suggested always carrying a small notebook and pen wherever we go. That habit serves me well, and Ellen Schmidt likes to give out little notebooks with beautiful quotes on them. . I’ll imagine you and Suzi cruising down the road.
Thank you Elaine for this lovely post! I LOVE road trips and am planning/hoping for one at the moment – just checking out when I can – I want to visit my sister and friends in Cape Town, a long trip from Johannesburg about 1000 miles (1600 km). The last time I took a road trip was on my own from here down to Plettenberg Bay about 1200 km in August 2 years back. The bliss of solitude, the beautiful terrain, just me and thee and the wide open skies.
Those car dreams – I’ve had many of them – driving in the dark, windscreen wipers not working, going into reverse, hair pin beds on mountain roads, being smacked into by driver behind me, coming out from wherever and my car is not where it was … I’ve had a field day with those dreams. Always inter alia to check where my energy is or was not …
Safe driving back! You’ve enthused me!
A long distance driver! You inspire me to act on a few fantasies I have about traveling longer distances. Willow is ready. When we’re away from home, she sleeps right next to my suitcase to make sure she isn’t left behind. She knows that when the suitcase goes, I’m taking off.
I was in inundated by scary driving dreams after Vic died. It was clear that I could no longer trust my “vehicle” and I certainly didn’t know my way. I need to go back and check how long those lasted. Two or three years, at least. I’m home. All is well except we’re having an unusual near-drought and the gardens need lots of attention. That’s soothing work and I’m out to water in a few minutes. You enthuse me, too.
Elaine, what you said about detours and road blocks is a perfect metaphor for life! I never even considered that!
I do enjoy driving with no music or noise. I have hearing problems to, but nothing like you. Driving in silence does become a kind of moving meditation. An opportunity to live in the moment, being totally aware, and one with the car. Sounds like a Yoga practice to me!
Thank you so much for inspiring my driving experience and my present situation. You have helped me to validate even more, that I know what I need.
And yes, the books are the hardest to part with!
Namaste
Especially life when we’re thrown off the habitual path–and you were in a huge way. I’m glad your hearing problems aren’t mine. I began losing hearing over twenty years ago, but hearing aides made everything just fine until 3 or 4 years ago. Meniere’s does its own kind of damage and causes crazy symptoms. I do not like this tendency to have vertigo and have to manage it every day. Grateful for medicines, but I take as little as possible because they have side effects. I’m glad I’ve helped a little. It helps me figure out where I am by writing. This blog began as a piece about visiting my family but ended up as a piece about driving. Next time I’ll write about beekeeping in North Carolina. And on we go with clearing, book by book.
Your lovely post reminded me of Paul Kalanithi’s borrowed phrase from Samuel Becket: “I can’t go on. I will go on.”
I’m so happy we are both driving red Subarus now. I will think of you when I make my own long treks across the country to and from Minnesota this fall. You inspire me.
Blessings as we journey on.
I know that quote and loved Kalanithi’s book. His wife is everywhere these days with her beautiful message of grief and love.
Minnesota is a long drive. I don’t think I could do that in one day from where I live and definitely not from where you live. Have to find a friend or a hotel along the way. I have a hatchback Impreza. My last Suburu was a Legacy. Vic and I thought it was bigger than we needed, but in those days we traveled back and forth from our home to our “work camp” at Colgate during the week. I was glad we had the larger car after he got sick. I put a mattress in the back so he could lie down for the long drives to the doctor in Rochester. Sigh…