Dream #1: The blueprint of my life

Dream: I am shown a white sheet of paper with a diagram. All separated in two, left side and right side, representing approximately 10 or 12 rectangles in total, including writing. I understand that people tell me about the stages of my life starting at the bottom. I notice that towards the bottom, the second row on both the left and right sides, there are two rectangles whose writing is very faint. In the other tiles, the writing is more homogeneous. I ask why and they make me understand that these are my dreams. I also understand that these were periods in my life where it was not easy. I look briefly at the whole table and I direct my attention to the one at the top because I know that this is the end of my life. The writing on the left side is normal, the color is ok, but the rectangle on the right side is all white. There is no writing... I am near a car because we have just arrived. There are children we have to take to Andréanne's house. I would like to be left to look after the youngest child (around 1 or 2 years old). A young man takes it and gives it to me in my arms. I walk with the child who seems a little sleepy, but suddenly he pronounces the word “Romania”. A little surprised, I look at him and ask him: “Did you say “Romania?” He nods to me yes. I walk inside the house wondering why he said “Romania.” I'm in Andréanne's kitchen with Guy. I was washing dishes. Guy was looking for something. He finally finds what he was looking for. It was the plate that went in the microwave. We were the ones who gave it to Andréanne. I said to myself, “He should have asked me, because I knew where she was.” » I wash it, because I notice that it is a little dirty. Then I said to him: “You can go and carry it to him.” He said to me, “No, put it on the counter.” I deduce that Andréanne is resting. The kitchen is a bit messy. We are about to leave and Guy who is in front of me says to me: “Yesterday I thought about suicide (in concrete terms Guy had already attempted suicide a few years before I knew him) and another day too.” He admitted to me that he had undergone quite expensive therapy and that he had been advised to think about it for 5 to 10 minutes a day. When he talks to me about this I think of UCM and I say to myself: “Oh it would have done him so much good to go to UCM”. I look at him and say, “Knowing you, you must have only meditated twice since your therapy.” And he admits to me that “yes” with a slight smile.