Part 2: How to Lose Yourself in a Cul-de-Sac Without Even Trying. (Decoding Sarlons Dreams)

✨Welcome to Part two of a dream dissection series where I pull apart my husband Sarlon White’s old dreams like we’re doing open-heart surgery with a crowbar. These aren’t just dreams — they’re emotional crime scenes, survival maps, and sacred punchlines. Buckle up. It’s gonna hurt. It’s gonna heal. It’s gonna be real.

Entry Two: The Disappearing Gold Sedan

(or: How to Lose Yourself in a Cul-de-Sac Without Even Trying)

Context

November 9, 2022.

Location: The Rosetta Motel.
Mood: Panicked like a crow locked inside a vending machine.

Sarlon, Loui, and unborn Truman had technically secured a room and board.
(Translation: four walls and a door that felt one argument away from splintering.)

The eviction was fresh.
The old tattooing life was still smoldering behind them like a bad dream.
Every breath still tasted like desperation and discount carpet glue.

Safety?
An illusion.
Trust?
Thin as motel toilet paper.

Perfect timing for the universe to whisper in Sarlon’s ear:

“Hey, remember that ‘identity’ you parked somewhere safe? …Oops.”

Full Dream Entry

I pull up in a gold sedan to a house I don’t recognize. I park and get out.
> I follow a group of four people through the backyard of a cul-de-sac.
> We’re supposed to be heading to a scenic beach, but it’s further than I thought.
> I turn back toward my car.
> When I get around the house, the gold sedan is gone.
> I start panicking.
> I ask a lady nearby for help. She says she’ll get her phone — then ghosts me and never comes back.

Surface Layer Magnifying Glass (a.k.a. “First Signs You’re F**ked”)

• Gold Sedan: Self-worth. Autonomy. Identity you thought you could park and trust.

• Unknown House: Borrowed safety. Illusion of stability.

• Group of Four: Society's slow march toward "success" (or, you know, the scenic beach you'll never actually reach).

• Longer Journey Than Expected: Life’s bait-and-switch. ("Just follow the program! It'll be easy!" Lies.)

• Missing Car: Loss of identity. Raw survival panic.

• Woman Who Won't Help: Society's pretend compassion that leaves you stranded with your thumb up your ass.

Deep Psychological Dissection

(a.k.a. Here Comes the Real Knife)

This dream isn’t just about losing a car.
(slow evil laugh)
It’s about realizing you never really owned that life you thought you built.
You borrowed it.
You parked your dreams in a driveway you didn’t recognize because you were taught survival meant blending in.

And when you needed it most?
Poof.
Gone.
No note.
No forwarding address.

Because the "safe life" they sold you was never built for people like you.
It was built for people who could stomach pretending forever.
You were always gonna wake up eventually.

The group of four walking on ahead?
(grim chuckle)
That’s the parade you used to think you had to join.
Go to the beach. Smile for the picture.
Meanwhile your soul is screaming that it’s too far, too wrong, too empty.

The woman who promised help?
Yeah.
That’s the system.
That’s society.
That’s every false promise of "aid" that evaporates the second you’re inconvenient.

“Oh no! We totally care about your survival! …Oops gotta go, sending thoughts and prayers lol.”

Mythic Initiation Level (a.k.a. Stop Waiting, Start Building)

This wasn’t a dream about losing.
This was a dream about being freed —
even if it looked like abandonment.

You weren't meant to drive that gold sedan into the sunset.
You were meant to build a whole new damn machine.
One made of crow feathers, molten will, and the bones of every lie they ever sold you.

You don’t need their driveway.
You don’t need their permission.
You don't need a backseat full of polite betrayals.

You are the driver now.
You are the road.

You are the motherfreaking engine.

Sacred Salvage: What Was Actually Saved

• The moment you realized the house, the system, the fake safety was never yours — and you stopped asking for the key back.

• The soul permission to build your own life without apology.

• The freedom to never park your dreams on borrowed land again.

Pattern Notes Emerging:

🛠️ Vehicles = Identity and autonomy
🛠️ Lost vehicle = Identity collapse, soul jailbreak
🛠️ Public abandonment = Liberation disguised as betrayal
🛠️ Following others = Temporary, necessary betrayal of self for perceived safety
🛠️ Turning back = Instinct reawakening

Feather Note to Past Sarlon

You didn’t lose your car.
You lost your cage.
And someday, when the new wheels are made of stardust and iron will,
you’ll thank the wind for stealing it.

💔 What pain or struggle is this blog addressing?
Feeling emotionally abandoned by systems that promised stability. The raw fear of identity collapse. Losing a sense of self in survival mode. Being let down by people or structures that swore they’d help, only to vanish when it mattered most.

🔮 What’s the sacred transformation or takeaway?
This wasn’t loss—it was liberation. The reader leaves with the clarity that their identity was never safely parked—it was caged. By the end, they’ll feel a deep call to rebuild life not on borrowed rules, but on their own sacred terms. The soul win? They stop asking for the key back. They start building their own engine.


🪶 Coming Next: Entry 3: The Itchy butt and the Fish That Wouldn’t Stay Put
(Trust me, it’s even weirder — and way more sacred.)