Our friend, Dave, is fishing between mile markers one and two. He is on the beach. There is a steep cliff from the road down to the beach. Paul and I can’t see him when we drive by. We keep driving and get to a town. I then walk or skate across ice where a Zamboni is cleaning it.
Paul and I then get to a restaurant. A younger couple is sitting at a table with her parents. The younger woman has a fishing pole where the line is all tangled. The dad straightens it out. I say the pole and line being messed up is like me (haha).
The young woman wants a party and she wants to know who will make the invitations. I think about offering to help. She seems nervous and reminds me of Susan Stember.
Synchronicity. I drove Wyn and Oona along Lake Harriet yesterday, taking a look at the busy Art Shanty on the lake ice (second synchronicity: “I then walk or skate across ice”). Wyn and I talked about fishing. I told him grandma had been an expert, years ago.
I love the tangled fishing pole symbol. Third synchronicity, I live in Tangletown. In my dream, “fishing” is a search for something unknown, the unconscious, as it takes place in the water.
Understandable that the young woman is nervous. Understandable she wants a party, a way to celebrate life. A lot to this dream, Bonnie!