In this dream, I was traveling on a Greyhound-like passenger bus, and I was sitting in the very back. In the front of the bus there was a whole group of private school boys with scrubbed, cherubic faces and neat short haircuts. They were dressed in identical uniforms; black pants and pure white shirts and ties. Except one young man’s cuffs were unbuttoned, and the elbow of his shirt had been dragged through the mud.
There were all around seven or eight years old, and yet they were drinking beer and other alcoholic beverages. I started scolding one of them, “In America, we don’t let little kids drink.” And they all started laughing.
What was with the muddy sleeve? It was so out-of-place it had to be significant somehow…