Dream of:24 October 1988 "Trier"
Three or four people who were close to me had joined me in boarding what appeared to be a bus with clean red seats. The bus had no top on it, so we were completely exposed to the air. I had spoken with the driver of the bus, and he wasn't going to pick up anyone else. In fact this wasn't even a commercial bus. The driver just happened to be going where I wanted to go, and he had agreed to take us. As we rode through a city street, I chanced to see a family sitting at a table of an outdoor restaurant. I had recently met the family and when the bus stopped for a moment, I was able to ask them if they would like to get on the bus. They immediately stood up and boarded the bus.
The man in the family sat next to me and another person was sitting on the other side of him. As the bus traveled along again, I felt somewhat uncomfortable because the man was sitting too close to me. Finally I had to ask him to scoot over some. He had carried a large green pillow onto the bus. He put the pillow under his back so he could lean back more comfortably. I in turn picked up a blue pillow (which had already been on the bus) from the other side of the man and I put the pillow under my back. I leaned back and comfortably dozed off as I watched the countryside pass by.
When I awakened, I was in a car withmy father and my mother and was traveling through France headed for Paris. It was my mother's first time in Europe and I hoped she was enjoying looking at the French architecture which we were passing. We reached a town which I at first thought was the outskirts of Paris, but then I realized we were still about an hour's drive from Paris. Finally it occurred to me that this town was a French town called Trier. I told my father and my mother that I had once lived there for three months.
I passed some outdoor book stands and saw some French magazines. As I read a few words from them, I thought about how good being in a French speaking environment again would be. I had neglected my French lately and practicing French again was going to feel good.
I passed a river and said, "Here it is." I thought at first the river was the Seine, but then I realized my mistake - it wasn't the Seine. My father headed over a bridge across the river. Only when I was out on the bridge did I notice that it had no railings. It would be very easy to drive off the edge into the river. I cautioned my father to be careful. In fact his driving worried me quite a bit. He didn't seem to have complete control of the car. I cautioned him again that the driving over there was different and he needed to be careful. I began trying to remember whether people drove on the left side of the road in France.
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