I thought about where I wanted to sit. First I pictured being in the very front car, where you sit when you want to have the thrill of being the first to peek directly down the steep first hill and throw your hands in the air. I didn't want that thrill.
Then I considered the back, where, when the front of the coaster drops over the peak, it suddenly jerks you forward to follow it.
I always liked to sit in the middle, where you don't have the terror of hanging on the precipice looking down at the huge drop, and you don't feel yanked up as you do from the back seats. Just the right amount of pull in the middle.
In the dream it was taking a really long time to load the riders onto the coaster, and I was being non-committal about even getting on. Because once that restraint bar gets locked into place, there's that scary feeling that you can't get off the ride, there's no turning back. I was finally coaxed into sitting in the middle, and the coaster slowly moved forward, but the bar didn't lock. I panicked about safety. The ride stopped and I got the hell out.
The dream came after a weekend where I felt almost cushioned from reality, from my fears. I actually hadn't cried in 24 hours. I had, at the recommendation of my therapist, turned off the news and turned on the Kardashians to just kind of numb my brain. Everything was in order for the coming week. I had done some good clean-up work in my yard. Decided to make a dinner that took a long time to prepare and lulled me with the zen of stirring. I fell asleep on the couch in front of the Emmys, barely getting a chance to see the gorgeous dresses. I did, however, catch Julianne Hough's hair. Girrrrrrl, no.
Then came the big roller coaster dream. I guess I'm not surprised that I didn't take the ride, and it also made me think that if I stay off the roller coaster of life for too long, I'll be missing out. That's one of my biggest fears these days, missing out, even from the middle seats.