A So Cal Girl in the Desert

I'm sorry to say I can't remember much of the dream I had last night, but the parts I do remember are too bizarre not to share...

I'm abducted. I don't see who did it (or I don't remember), because it's already happened. I can see things from my perspective and also from overhead. I'm stuck in what I can only describe as a giant blue square-shaped floaty raft. It's the kind that have the cylindrical pockets to allow water (or a beverage can) in. I'm one of many naked people that have been abducted and are stuck in a pocket.

For some reason, I know that I can only be alive if I stay in the cylinder, but I can choose to get out, if I want to. If I get out, I'll be dead, but I can see the people who have died before me.

So the next thing I know I'm out, and now I'm wearing a white toga-like outfit. I'm watching a man in a similar outfit who's about fifty years old run around what looks like a ghost town. He's really scared. Then I'm holding him and comforting him, and I'm his mother.

That's all I remember.

Isn't it bizarre how some dreams you can totally figure out--like an engaged woman dreaming of wedding disasters--and then there are others that come from some little-used corner of your brain? I have no idea what this dream could mean. It's probably better that way.