Supplies

The dream is in black and white, like a pencil drawing with no shading. Just black areas and white areas. No gray. Colby is driving a Jeep and I am sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Colby's hair is longer and darker and messier than when I have seen it in other dreams, and his clothes are spattered with mud. The Jeep is also mud spattered. It has a stick shift and Colby's entire body is turned toward me, including his right calf, which rests on the seat next to the stick shift, his lower leg bent back toward him. If there is a top on the Jeep it is either folded down or has been removed. The temperature is perfect. I feel neither warm or cold.

There is no steering wheel or gas pedal in the Jeep, but somehow we navigate through a large area of rubble. Colby uses the stick shift a few times, but I can't tell how that affects where we are going or how we get there. We are talking in this dream, but we do not say anything; the conversation between us is in our heads. I am so happy to see that Colby is relaxed, at ease with himself, and confident.

Colby tells me he spends his time helping people in this Jeep and he is taking me to where he will be working this day. Soon after that we come to a stop. The area where we are is still littered with rubble and in the near distance people mill about. Colby tells me he is bringing the people supplies. Surprised, because I did not feel like we were hauling anything, I turn around to look in the back of the Jeep. The supplies we are bringing are not those kinds of supplies, he says.

I ponder that for a while and then ask why we do not get out and bring the supplies to the people. Colby replies that the people have to come to us. I watch the people and comment that the people act as if they do not know we are here. It's okay. Some will see us, he says. Some will come for the supplies. I have the feeling that the supplies are in the form of information or guidance, and I wake up then, not knowing if the people are here on Earth or over in Colby's world.