A desert nearly identical to the one in the image above is what I hiked through in a dream earlier this morning. Small shrubs, sticky prickly bushes, and cacti surrounded me in every direction. I walked a narrow trail out to what appeared to be several stands made to compose a flea market. When I reached it, I found nothing of interest. Weird ceramic things that I couldn’t identify rested on one of the tables. These tables were being hosted by young kids as their parents watched from the side.
What this event was doing out in the middle of nowhere is anyone’s guess. There was no way to reach it except by foot. I turned and walked back the way I came, arriving eventually at the lip of a cliff. I didn’t recall having climbed up the impossibly narrow and steep trail that led up to where I stood, but there was no other way down. A small town bustled in the distance and in the dream – that’s where I had come from.
I observed, with great apprehension, the narrow trail down the face of this cliff and wondered just how in the hell I was going to make it down. I couldn’t remember how I got to the top. A small Native American family had left the tiny flea market after me and I let them go down the trail before me as I scanned the area for a staircase. Didn’t see one. All I could see to the left was the overhanging lip of top part of the cliff.
As I watched the family walk down the steep trail, they reminded me of gazelle following each other down the face of a mountain on some impossibly tiny path that – from a distance – wouldn’t be visible. They inched down taking sure footed steps, one after the other, and followed each other without any problems. No one fell, tumbling down the cliff. I couldn’t just stand up there all by myself all day. I had to get down, too. So, I started down and noticed that there was absolutely zero room for error. The trail wasn’t much wider than my foot. I couldn’t even skootch down on my butt if I’d wanted to.
Three steps into my hike down I started to slide and I couldn’t stop. There were no rocks to brace my feet against nor anything to grab on to.. As if I was on a snowboard, I slid all the way down the loose gravel to the bottom. Thank goodness I had gone down in a straight line, otherwise I would have somersaulted all the way down the cliff side.
Then the dream changed, though I was still in New Mexico, and I was on a bus looking through the window at a ginormous cloud in the shape of a ridiculously massive UFO. Whoever was flying the ship had forgotten to make the cloud look like a real cloud. Instead, the cloud looked like the space ship it was supposed to be hiding. It looked similar to the ship in that movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind. It was BIG. As I fumbled for my cellphone to take a photo, the cloud began to dissolve, as though the pilot had figured out that I had noticed them. The cloud began to dissolve and turned into a – wait for it – an impossibly large baby with blond hair wearing a red and white striped Onsie. (I know – right? Dreams can be TOO weird sometimes.)
I took as many pictures as I could before the cloud started to get masked behind poles and a large billboard, as the bus continued to head down the street. I moved my gaze to the billboard as we passed it and on the front was a picture of that same baby, with blond hair, wearing that same outfit. As though the baby from the ship – the ship that turned INTO a baby – landed in the billboard; Onsie and all.