The Garage Between Here and There

For the past several weeks, I've been having the same dream over and over again.

I can't find my car.

Sometimes it's not where I left it. Sometimes I'm wandering through endless parking lots looking for it. One night someone rear-ended me, didn't have insurance, and simply disappeared. Another time I knew exactly where my car should have been...but it wasn't there.

Every version of the dream left me with the same feeling—frustration.

As someone who journals both my dreams and my meditations, I've learned that when the same message keeps showing up, Spirit is trying to get my attention. Rather than dismissing it as "just a dream," I decided to bring the question into meditation.

"Spirit," I asked, "please show me where my car is."

The answer was immediate.

I found myself lifted out of my meditation sphere and into a brilliant white garage. It didn't feel like a mechanic's shop as we know it. Everything was spotless, peaceful, and purposeful. There were about six beings dressed in white overalls, each completely focused on caring for my vehicle.

My black Jeep Renegade wasn't damaged.

It wasn't abandoned.

It wasn't lost.

It was being restored.

I watched as the engine was carefully power washed. The tires were cleaned, scrubbed, and filled. The seats and carpeting were meticulously cleaned. An upgraded dashboard was being installed. Every inch of the vehicle was being cared for with incredible attention and love.

One by one, the workers finished their tasks and quietly left until only one remained.

He looked at me, smiled, and simply said,

"Your vehicle isn't lost...it's in the shop."

Those words landed deeply because I have always understood, through dream interpretation, that when we dream about a car, it often symbolizes our body or the vehicle through which we move through this life.

Looking at the meditation through that lens, I began to see my vehicle not simply as my physical body, but as my entire being—physical, emotional, energetic, and what I would call my light body.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

I could see how I had been walking through a profound season of healing. Spirit had been guiding me to release ancestral burdens one "rock" at a time rather than trying to heal everything overnight. I'd been experiencing unexpected emotional releases, feeling unusually tired, and noticing physical sensations that felt as though my entire nervous system was adjusting to something new.

To be honest, there were days when I wondered why I felt so different. Why did I feel as though I was moving through mud? Why did I seem to have less energy than usual?

Like many of us, my first instinct was to assume something was wrong.

But what if nothing is wrong?

What if healing sometimes looks exactly like maintenance?

We accept without question that our cars need regular care. We rotate the tires, change the oil, replace worn-out parts, and understand that occasionally a vehicle needs to spend time in the shop before it's ready for the next journey.

Yet when our own body, mind, or spirit asks for that same kind of care, we often become impatient. We worry that we've somehow fallen behind. We compare ourselves to everyone else who seems to be racing down the highway while we're sitting still.

What if stillness isn't failure?

What if it's preparation?

Looking back, I also realized something else.

Years ago I managed forty technicians across fifteen states as a project manager. It was an incredibly demanding job, but it also gave me a deep sense of purpose and direction. My dreams weren't asking me to return to that chapter of my life. They were reminding me of something I had forgotten—that I know how to navigate difficult roads. I've done it before.

Spirit wasn't showing me my old vehicle.

Spirit was preparing a new one.

One capable of carrying me into the next season of my life.

Perhaps that's the invitation for all of us.

Instead of asking,

"Why am I not moving forward?"

Maybe we can ask,

"What is being repaired while I wait?"

Sometimes the most important work happens beneath the surface, where no one else can see it. Sometimes the greatest act of faith isn't pushing harder—it's trusting that unseen hands are doing sacred work on your behalf.

If you've been feeling like life has slowed down...
If you've wondered why things aren't moving as quickly as you'd hoped...
If you've questioned whether you've somehow lost your direction...

Maybe you haven't lost your way at all.

Maybe your vehicle is simply in the shop.

And when the work is complete, you'll be ready for roads you couldn't have traveled before.

May you trust the unseen hands working behind the scenes, gently restoring every part of the beautiful vehicle that is you.

With love and light,

Theri Edwards
Visionary Light Journey