Living the Winnebago Dream

Last night I dreamt that I was trying to get my parents to do more member missionary work with Spanish speakers in the area. I think they were trying to start a Spanish twig in my parents' ward or something. We were at an all-day conference at the stake center, and it was a Saturday. That was actually one of my more boring dreams, since I dream about missionary work a lot. However, I have made a decision to record more of my dreams on this blog, so it's going up.

Then during my afternoon nap, I dreamt that my family lived in a Winnebago during a simulacrum of the 1970s. My grandparents (who were not my actual grandparents) had died, and we drove to their mobile home to clean it out and take it home with us. We drove through a lot of those stacked concrete overpasses that they have in California. I remember the air felt really hot. At some point, we may have stopped at this New-Agey spiritual shop owned by a Sufi woman, a shop I have visited in my dreams before. Meanwhile, my sister—who was wearing the 1970s vintage dress that in real life she posed in for some of her senior portraits—had a falling out with my parents and didn't want to live in a cramped Winnebago with both my parents, my brother, and me anymore. I was trying to negotiate a deal in which my parents would give me enough money to care for my sister and me, and she and I would drive off with our grandparents' mobile home when I woke up.