rshort1202

I am at work when I notice a shorter, pudgy blond boy holding a shirt and standing right by the mall entrance. He is sort of obscured by the racks of clothes, but i still see him conceal the shirt somewhere on him and then exit. I know I’m not cleared to stop people by myself, and I don’t know where Lainey is right now, but I run after him anyway, feeling that it is justified. I go up to him and just tell him that he needs to come back. I let him lead, staying pretty close to him, noticing how young he looks. I ask his name and he tells me. I ask his age, and he tells me something like 13. I think about how old kids are looking for their age these days. At some point a girl has started walking with us, like she’s with him. When we get to the door, I tell them to put their bags and phones up on the desk. I recover the merchandise, hanging it on the wall. There are Nike sweats, two things from Pink, and something from another store. Now, there are three 20-somethings sitting in here, in three chairs facing the desk. They have grabbed the paperwork and are filling it out themselves, nonchalantly. The guy in the middle is even reclining and has his phone set up and playing a video or something. I take it and set it on the desk. Now, it is the boy and girl again. I look over and notice the girl playing a game on her phone. I hit it out of her hand, saying “Get off your fucking phone, I’m not fucking kidding.” Now, it seems a little later, and I’m being invited into a house by a slightly older looking Nathaniel’s dad. I get the impression that the two earlier were Nathaniel and Beatrice and he wants to talk to me about it. He plays a tape or recording and I hear myself saying what I said earlier and hear the phone hit the ground. He politely tells me that he thinks I was being aggressive. His mom is here now too, and I tell them that I’m very quiet and so I have to try to be more assertive. I tell them we never try to be mean to people there, that we tell everyone it can be easy and we want it to. They seem understanding. I also tell them that like half of the people we get are homeless and that it’s saddening.

I am working, though this place does not look like work. It almost seems like something at the Legends, like a department store at the edge of a shopping mall and its large parking lot. Laynie and I are watching cameras when we notice an old lady stuffing jewelry into her purse in a deserted aisle. I think she is with 1-2 others, and they may be doing so also, but we only see the lady do it. We go out into the parking lot after her to stop her. She comes back, and now I’m alone with her in what looks like a large, empty fitting room stall. There’s a desk in here, on which are all the stolen items that were in her bag. There are about 3 to 4 boxes of different shapes and sizes. I am asking her questions and filling out paperwork, confidently. I ask things like why she did it and if she’s done it before. I feel in charge, but I am also being nice with her. I can’t really read her, but she seems to not care.


*The following seem like fragments, but are probably part of this dream since the fitting room and parking lot seem the exact same.

Laynie and I have gone out into the parking lot to stop a few teen girls. As soon as one sees me approach and try to talk to her, her face reddens and she turns hard to avoid me. They try to run from us as we yell that they could come with us or we could call the cops.

I have brought a teen couple back into the fitting room with the desk. I am being funny and friendly but serious with them. They don’t seem to care that they’re in here. I have them turn over the stolen merchandise, and they start stripping off tons of clothes and concealed clothes. I’m almost impressed with how much they have - I think I tell them this. It seems like they do this almost professionally.

I am at work with Lainey. We have stopped a teen girl right outside the mall entrance. I think it’s the same girl that she stopped in Sephora and had me be a witness for. Her mom happens to be right over here, so we have her come over. I kind of explain what happened and tell her it’ll be easier since she’s here. The mom seems pretty understanding. I am holding a shoe box that is apparently what she stole. I start to go through it, and I find ear buds (which I think could’ve been hers since they’re a little tangled and not exactly brand new looking) and a smaller pair of shoes shoved inside a larger pair of shoes (they’re like a converse or something with a high ankle area that allows this to happen). I noticed that the box did feel a little heavy. I talk to just Lainey for a second - she wants to let her go, but I really don’t since the shoes are around $100.

I am outside somewhere with whom I am pretty sure is Scott from work. The area looks like stereotypical Nevada scenery - gentle hills, dirt, and sagebrush. I am chewing on what seems to be a few tiny pieces of bone, separating any meat left on them. As I listen to Scott talk, I spit the pieces completely devoid of meat. He is telling me about Nathaniel’s girlfriend and how she goes somewhere or has access to somewhere (due to wealth, family, etc.). We’re apparently going to use her connections to go there as well. I picture her, think about telling him I know her, then tell him “Kevin, I mean Nathaniel, is one of my old best friends.”




I am with one or two employees at work (it is not really work, but seems more like a multiple level shopping center or hotel). I think Hunter is one of them. We’re each carrying a stack of jeans and when we walk past a man one of us gets the idea to say something that makes it sound like we’re trying to steal these. The man falls for it and starts following us. We end up down on the ground floor and outside or in an outdoor entryway area, right outside the elevator. I think we’ve left the jeans elsewhere, and the man is gone too. I’m looking at the gap between the elevator and the floor that is exposed by the open doors. I shine my phone’s flashlight into it, tentatively, afraid of dropping my phone down it. I contemplate what happens to things that are dropped down there. I can’t see the bottom.

I am in what I think is a Kohl’s (though I’m not sure it really looks like one). I’m with a familiar? guy and bringing some clothes to the fitting room to try on. They seem to all be on hangers. The fitting room is a stall set atop a little raised platform. The door is sized so that one can see the occupant’s feet as well as just above their head. For a moment, I am watching either myself or someone else; the clothes can clearly be seen hanging. I ponder the result of this on theft, thinking it probably lessens it. I don’t think I end up getting anything.




I am in what I think is a movie theater. It seems like it is a much older building, or like I am in the past. There are mostly middle aged hippies filling in and into the theater. I’m in a sort of hallway outside the theater; I pull back a curtain over an opening and get a glimpse of the theater. I then go find a seat. Looking around, I’m very surprised I don’t smell pot. It does look hazy though. This film that is being shown is very psychedelic, not in an overdone or hackneyed way, but in a very synesthetic way. The clips or scenes are disjointed and cause visceral sensations. It seems the film is being shown to elicit collective response that becomes the spectacle itself. The whole thing is very phantasmagorical

I am at work and entering the fitting room. I am not alone either; at least four other people are also entering at the same time. I notice a fairly dirty looking guy in his 20s and his female companion. He has long and shaggy brown hair (or dreads) and baggy clothes, and she has dark hair and pants and a somewhat skimpy purple tank top. The guy, with a sort of detached fervor, starts grabbing anything in reach on the folding tables (I notice a folded dress shirt) like he’s going to take them into the stall and steal them. I think he has not noticed that I work here. I say “hey man” kind of casually, which startles him and causes him to look guilty and remorseful. I think he leaves now, and I start checking the stalls. Most have a floor completely obscured by tried on and tossed clothes. One contains a man passed out or sleeping on the floor and amongst the clothes. I don’t even know what to do. Now I am helping ring up customers, and I notice the guy what was going to steal. He is actually buying a pair of black slacks.




I am with Melissa in a bed. I think we are just cuddling and talking. Now out of nowhere it begins to snow. Almost immediately the roads are covered. (It looks like downtown, like the street parallel to the river and behind the movie theater). I offer to give her a ride wherever so she doesn’t have to drive in it. I think it’s out of the way or will create a problem with where the cars are, but I don’t mind going out of my way. Now, I am driving us somewhere. I think Melissa says something about the speed, as if I’m going too slow. Right after, the car violently slides out and then corrects itself after a tense moment.




(I think this one was part of another dream that I can’t recall. It has a weird feeling to it). I’ve been watching a movie that is or is very similar to Hereditary. I have an image of Charlie’s decapitated head in my mind. It looks more animated and like it has more skin on the face, around the eyelids and lip areas. I think there is some distinct, enigmatic, seminal plot to this movie that I can’t stop thinking about.




I am sitting at Melissa’s kitchen table in the seat facing the sliding door. At least Carlos and one other family member is here. They’re talking about late puberty? (like in their early 20s). I lift my bare leg up so they can see the hair on it and say “I haven’t seen my legs since like fourth grade.” It elicits some chuckles. I then feel slightly self conscious about putting my bare foot on their table.

I am at work when I discover a huge rack of clothes that need to go back. (This place doesn’t look like work, but more like a store’s vestibule for shopping carts crossed with, now that I think about it, the women’s fitting room that I brought clothes to yesterday. Their rack was very full). Upon closer inspection, the myriad pants? look new, like they’ve just gotten here and are ready to be put on the floor. So I instead enter one of the fitting rooms, instantly disappointed that I do, finding a small sea of tried-on pants left on the ground. I notice a lot of their tags - Levis? As I filter through them, I think I find evidence of shoplifting. I end up finding quite a few fake bills (20s and 50s I think). I hold them up to the light, making the ink on them appear to have been drawn on. This and the crude renditions of the faces on the bills is quite humorous.




I am at work? (it seems to be the area above the escalators that is still near the clothes but is mostly now the area for appliances). I seem to be in a large kitchen model. I think there is an island counter surrounded by a large L of counter space and a plethora of cabinets. A middle aged couple and the mom of one of them come over now. The wife tells me she is looking for a cookie cutter. I start looking for her, genuinely trying, searching every single drawer and cabinet, left to right. I come across a total of three circular apple slicers, one of which I offer as the closest thing we have to a cookie cutter. She politely declines, but genuinely thanks me for looking, then tells me to have a nice day and leaves. I consider bringing one of the apple slicers to Dad’s. I now look in a drawer very close to the ground and find a bunch of newspaper clippings. They are ads or sales. One is offering a pizza for a certain price contingent upon you reviewing some place. I see a 13 near the top, leading me to believe that it is from 2013. I also discover a few black shirts - Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails band shirts. They are marked down with turquoise clearance stickers on their tags. I think that Mom is keeping them in here so she can give them to me as (Christmas?) gifts later. I think about how I don’t even really know NIN and how the prices will probably be expired by now. There is also a soft looking, navy blue Grateful Dead shirt that I think is going to be for Dad. Makayla is here now, on the phone, and she asks what we should get for Dad. I tell her I don’t know.

I am with Melissa in some clothes store. I carry three pairs of Levis as we casually go into a fitting room stall and close the door. It’s just big enough for the two of us. Without me trying to do so, the ink tag on one of the pairs separates and comes off. I try them on and they fit very well (though they’re a little long). They’re sort of a faded Tahoe blue in color. Since they fit and the security tag fell off, I’m going to wear them out under my other pants. I tuck the cuffs into my socks for extra invisibility, and with my shirt back on they are entirely concealed. I briefly consider where to leave the ink tag, though it doesn’t matter a whole lot. I think about bringing the other two pairs back out, but then know it would be suspicious without the other pair I came in with, so I leave them in here. We casually walk out (into the mall?) and towards what would be the food court. We get in line for something (Brooke may be with us) There’s a guy about our age or younger in front of us. One of his friends appears and starts snaking his way in front of us. He has something with him that says (or he is labeled?) ‘Ladders’. The first guy is ‘Chutes’, so I guess it makes sense for them to be together and don’t fuss about him cutting. Melissa is holding a drink, a thin and tall glass clutched at chest level. This second guy starts grabbing at it, which is when I start to have a problem. He tries to make casual conversation. I clasp my hand on his shoulder, and, in a sort of fake amiability, pull him aside with more of a shove. I ask/tell him something. The first guy has his phone out and, sensing this new tension, bluntly says something to Melissa about her unfollowing/blocking him. Without missing a beat, she coolly responds with something to the effect of ‘not a chance’ or ‘not in a million years.’ i get the sense that maybe we’ve met them before and she was receptive on social media to be polite and/or because they didn’t seem too bad. We now pay for the mini golf? at the counter and go wait at some tables outside. Oddly enough, we are still going to be mini golfing with them.




I am at work when I discover that there is more to recover than there should be. Clothes are misplaced and strewn in random places. I notice a section in particular that no one attempted to fix while I was gone. This really irritates me, but I start working on it anyway. On top of a shelf there are pins and nails and the paper filling from inside the shoes. I see Rocio over here, so I go talk to her. She speaks a lot in Spanish, repeating some things. I understand some of it, trying to reply in Spanish too. I think she asks if I am going to teach. I tell her maybe, really considering it. The large, yellow cup from Dad’s is here and full of water. I take a large swig.




I am at a very small concert festival with Melissa. I see a lineup poster by a stage - Venom is playing at the same time as another band (they’re both headlining though?). Melissa asks me to pick which one we should watch. I pick Venom because they sound familiar. They come on and start, and Melissa rushes to the stage. I imagine moshing.

I am in some building. This building may be more of a house, though it is vast and labyrinthine. I think an Asian woman is showing me around or I keep running into her. At one point, she is introducing me to ‘the author’. He is a fairly unassuming man with brown hair and a full but medium length beard. He is in formal dress, along with the few other men with him. They appear to be golfing at an indoor course (or simulation?) in this room that was right around a corner. I’m under the impression that this ‘author’ has made enough to afford this house. He gives me a curtly respectful nod, and I move along. There are a myriad of rooms and furnishings, blending into the whole layout, often lacking clear demarcations between rooms. There is a large, plush bed in a corner. In it, under the comforter, lies a man and two or more women. I think that’s a high ratio, then I see another man’s head in the small sea of bedding and pillows. I may be in search of a bathroom, or I may just be passing a few. The second one I pass seems narrow and branching off in two directions. I think one side has sinks and the other has toilets or urinals. Either way, it is far too large than is necessary for a house.






I am going into a Sam’s Club with Melissa. We are not members, so I think we’ve snuck in somehow. We gather a few shopping bags worth of goods and proceed to the check out. Instead of paying there, you’re supposed to give your phone number. We give a fake number. We’re given a receipt which is checked by a man on the way out. We give this (Hispanic?) man a different receipt - from a different, real transaction or something. This receipt is from a different location, though, and we had folded it to obscure that, but he ends up seeing it. We’re not sure what to do, but we end up sneaking away when he becomes distracted by something. We stay close to the line of parked cars. I start to run, but Melissa tells me not to, as it’ll be more noticeable. Later, we are somewhere and I am thinking that we’re probably going to get caught. I think we’ve done this before too. I feel remorse and don’t want the repercussions of being caught.