What kind of happiness awaits 20 years down the road?

So there we all were at a traffic light. The people around us were about 20 years older than my wife, Sarah, and I. Something else about the people around us jumped out at me: They were all standing in the road.

That can't be safe, I said to myself as I looked up out of my Jeep at a smiling woman with gray hair holding a coffee. She was standing in the street, waiting for the light. She was commuting on foot. So were the people she was with. They were smiling as they went. I made a mental note of that. 

Next thing I knew, my Jeep had dissolved and Sarah and I were among this walking group. It was a sunny day. We all gave ourselves enough time to get where we were going. We lingered each time we said goodbye to each other, told each other to have a nice day each time we branched off.  

Sarah and I were headed back to school. We got there before it was open and decided to wait in the cafeteria, like our son does now when we drop him off at school. Inside, Sarah and I were about 20 years older than the people around us. 

The symbolism in my dreams is usually heavy handed and obvious. In the cafeteria our roles flipped.  While we were younger than the happy commuters in the first half of the dream, in this setting we were the happy older people out of place. 

As the students milled about Sarah and I were enjoying being with each other, to the extreme. I made a point of acting silly like I did when we were dating.  

I woke Sarah up to tell her my dream. 

"This was a dream about getting back to basics," I said. "We were really entertaining people with how happy we were."

Then I started to tease out the meaning of my dream. At first, I didn't get the older people standing at the light. They looked happy, but their behavior was bizarre. Next thing I knew, my Jeep had disappeared into thin air and Sarah and I were among the crazy commuters. 

To further emphasize the theme my dream kept its parallels and made our destination a school where the tables turned in the cafeteria. We became the happy ones 20 years further down the road than those around us. We were happy -- almost too happy -- making us look crazy. 

Why did the Jeep disappear? Was it symbolic?  

When Sarah and I met, we were just two people who enjoyed each other. Now we have a mortgage, two cars, school tuition, a retirement fund, a school fund for our child, etc.

What was my brain trying to tell me about the future? What kind of happiness awaits 20 years down the road?