Dream of:17 June 1989 "Plowing The Fields"
Early in the morning, someone had just awakened me. When I got up, I discovered that I was in the Gallia County Farmhouse, and that several of my relatives were still asleep in the next room, but outside, my step-uncle Ivan and his sons were already plowing the fields.
I was in the back seat of a large blue car which contained several of my relatives. A girl who seemed like my wife Carolina was in the front seat. We were riding through Gallia County and I explained to the girl (who had never been in Gallia County before) where we were and what we were passing.
My sister was also in the car; when we passed a small white cottage, she said that she had been thinking about buying it, but that she now saw it was too small. Indeed, from the front, the cottage looked as if it only had one room. However, as we passed, I saw the cottage was longer than I had thought. But my sister still seemed to think it was too small.
As we rode along, I began singing about how I loved Gallia County and how I would rather live there than anywhere in the world. Since I had been born in Gallia County, I felt as if it should be my home.
Finally, whoever was driving the car got out from behind the steering wheel and put the car on automatic driver. The car continued on over hills and curves without anyone driving it. Some of the road was very rough and almost impassable.
Deciding it would be safer if I drove instead of the car remaining on automatic, I slipped over the seat into the driver's seat and began steering. The car was a bit unwieldy and I had some problems with driving, but I managed. At one point we came to a hill where practically no road remained. I needed some effort, but I made it up the hill.
At last we reached a village which reminded me of Patriot (a small village in Gallia County). I had a very difficult time stopping at a stop sign because the brakes didn't seem to be working. It seemed to me as if this car belonged to my father and he must have strong feet to get these brakes to work. A couple cars almost hit us as we passed through the intersection.
There was a large school building in the village which I pointed out to the girl and identified as Grant Junior High School (where I attended junior high in Portsmouth, Ohio). I knew she had heard about the school before, because I let her read my dreams, and the school had appeared in many of my dreams. I was glad she was finally able to see what the school looked like.
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