rshort1202

I am in some convenience store, waiting for Makayla. I think she said she would be right back or something. She’s taking forever though, and even the Indian? clerk in here notices it. I watch as he rings up two Hispanic? men for a six pack. I think the beer is some bigger name brewery but a weird fruit flavor. I then think it might not be half bad, in a guilty pleasure kind of way. I think about how six packs don’t last that long. Tired of waiting, I talk out and to the right to go find her. It is pretty dark out. There is a covering over a few spaces in this lot. There is also a pool table, at which Makayla is lining up a shot. She seems me and keeps on smiling without a care in the world.

I am at Nathaniel’s, watching him for a while. I’m lying on my back, with my legs straight up, him balancing his torso horizontally on my feet and holding my hands to balance. He seems to be having fun, and his personality is just as I remember it. Now, his dad is here, and he is just as nice as I remember him too.




I am walking into what I think is a huge Walmart. As I walk in, I am cognizant of my middle parted hair hanging almost to my shoulders. I’ve decided that I am growing it out again and am pretty happy with this resolution. I also remember asking Makayla and her saying I should. I think I am going in here for a Christmas gift. I think I’ll look in the kitchen aisle for Mom and then I think for Melissa too. I end up not even finding the aisle, but end up by the cases of water. Everything looks like it is in bulk. I also notice bulk sized jugs of different tequilas and vodkas for around $10. One is called ‘Jimmy John’s Vodka’, which I think cannot be that good. I then get the idea to look at the beer, just to see what they have. There is a somewhat small selection on a few shelves, but then I notice that it is labeled ‘non alcoholic’. I step out into the wide and long main aisle (almost the size of a street) and notice a guy coming towards me on a bike. I started stepping into his path, but then wait for him to pass. I think I am also aware of my eyesight and how it is not that good. I have found the beer aisle now, which seems to be mostly six packs of cans in cardboard boxes. Nothing really looks that appealing. One says ‘Finally Harvest Time’ and has a graphic of a moon and the silhouette of a person. I think that can’t be that good either. Now, I am by some food products and wonder if I should just grocery shop while I am here. I don’t have a basket, but I can carry a few things. I am looking at the breads, thinking about what I would use them for. There is one that looks like four large pretzel rolls. I then notice the same package in someone’s cart, and the bottoms of the rolls look slightly burned. At the end of the aisle now, I see a large, circular, plastic container of frozen chicken tenders. There seems to be three groups, each arranged around a thing of sauce? The label indicates that it is a Phil Lesh brand, which I think is cool. I pick it up, contemplating getting it, but put it back because it’s really big. Then, I hear Phil himself over the intercom, saying that it’s my last chance if I was thinking about getting those. His voice is calm and monotonous, which makes it sort of humorous.

I am at an Oktoberfest out in the woods. It seems like a cool setting and nice weather, and I think the family is here. I think we’re showing up a little late, only because this large tent is already fairly full of people. Everyone is holding a stein or glass full of foamy, light beer. I think there is a ticket system to get the beer, and I get in line to get mine. I end up with a smaller glass that has a handle on it (it looks like a pint glass with a handle) and is filled with light beer. I’m not sure why it isn’t just a stein, and I also thought there’d be a dark beer (I think I’m thinking of a dunkel), but I take a sip and it is decent. I notice an older man with a white beard who is pouring refills before glasses are even empty. I’m now outside (it seems dark out), at a circular table with the family. Dad already has a stein going, but he mentions leaving. I think we say bye, and he says that he isn’t driving. I don’t know who would drive him. I get a refill from the ol man when I’ve only got a few sips missing, saying ‘prost’. Now, (I’m not sure if this is before or after?) I am floating above this scenery. It is a beautiful alpine forest nestled among jagged, rocky mountains that seems very remote. I am maybe 1,000 feet high, slowly drifting forward. I am awestruck, peaceful, and euphoric. I will myself to float higher and I do. I do a slow back flip and unwillingly drift back down, landing on the ground.




I am in what seems like a small office in a college campus with the AAD 180 teacher Hillary Clark. I think I am taking a final. From her and my comments, it seems like I’ve got it all wrong. I think there is a question about a god-like musician, one of the options for answers being Estas Tonne. This one I know, as I really like him. I start playing some of his music on my phone. I ask her if she likes him, and she says no because it’s too slow. I mention that it can be but does get intense too.




Something about riding bikes somewhere with Makayla. She doesn’t want to because it’s ‘too far’, but I’m trying to show her on a map that it’s just past somewhere we’ve already ridden to. I think this sways her opinion.




I am on an asphalt path that meanders through the trees near a lake. I am on a decline right before an incline. The trees are orange and red, intense, but also somehow subdued in the cool air. There’s a gap in them, allowing a view beyond. It is so beautiful that I sit down to admire and enjoy it. I think there are people coming, but I don’t really care.

I am at work (though it doesn’t really look like it - it does look like a retail store, but not necessarily JCPenney). It feels like I am upstairs, and I am with two unfamiliar others, one guy and one girl. We are sitting and playing a board game. The board is larger and sitting atop something. I think there are a few pieces, one being a longer, black piece of food (like a brownie?) Apparently when it is your turn you tell another player what to do and they are supposed to do it. I say this because the guy has told me to go count all the hangers in the store, and I am going to do it. I think it’s going to be hard to impossible but that’s just how the game works. I start on it, in what looks like the hallway to our employee entrance. I am counting and thinking of a strategy to not miss any when I see Mairin putting out some new clothes. They are men’s long sleeve button ups, in blues with subtle patterns, and I kind of like them. She is telling me and one other something as she fills an empty rack with a handful of the shirts. Now, a black man comes in and asks a simple question. I answer it, and he is super excited and impressed with me. On his way out, he gives me a pretty long hug. I had went for a handshake, but adjusted to a hug. He tells me thanks again, etc. I call him brother, and then hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way - it seems like he doesn’t. He asks if I like some orange beer? I’m not sure at first but then he specifies and I realize what he’s talking about and say “oh yeah.” He leaves and comes back in with a bottle of one and a glass. He gives them both to me, and I notice the glass has a little bit of what looks like peanut butter inside of it. I think that it’s gross and it’s probably just been sitting in his car or something, but that it’s a very kind gesture.




I am in some kind of cabin. There is a counter to order food and large paper menus hanging above it. I have to get kind of close to the counter to read the menu, and the younger looking employees are all looking to me as if I’m ready to order. To signal that I’m not quite ready, I start looking at the bookshelf below the counter. I notice a few stacks of books, one stack being maroon and antiquated looking books. I notice that every other ‘book’ isn’t really shaped like a book, but more like a box for a nice pen or something that shape. It looks like they’re in a series or all go together. I notice a girl off to the left poke a note out from behind something sort of secretly. I assume the note will be something about me ordering food. I go over and she hands me a different note, a full size paper. I glance at it, having no idea what it could be about. I think it could be about me or that it could be some kind of petition. I just fold it and hold onto it to look at it later.




I am at a small (rock?) beach at what looks like a large, clear pond. Emmy’s mom? sits next to me, and I notice Emmy swimming. I want to show her a picture of Makayla because they look so similar. As I talk to her, I am forgetting Emmy’s name, but remember it right before I have to use it.

I am on a road trip with Dad and Makayla, with Dad driving. We are going to Texas, and I see that we’re currently driving through a corner of Utah. It is like I am seeing a satellite map of a moment, and I notice that there is snowfall on the ground right above where we are and will be travelling. It zooms and pans to the right a bit. We pass by many lakes in a short amount of time. They are all fairly small, but they are beautiful. The water is clear enough to see the bottom of an entire lake as well as all the light colored and large rocks within.




I am in a store with Sage when I grab off of a shelf at about eye level a bottle of Lagunitas beer. I think I had been looking for it and am excited to have found it. I tell Sage how good it is as I open it up. I grab a glass from the shelf and pour the beer fairly vigorously into it, producing only a small, snow white head. The beer has the appearance of carbonated white grape juice and smells of the same. I take a sip and it is good. I pronounce Lagunitas funny and kind of laugh about it. Now, I am parking on the side of a residential street behind another car. Dad is on the lawn of this front/side yard, faced away from me; I have come to meet up with him. I think I have brought the full glass and the remainder in the bottle, each in a cup holder. I get out and start talking with him. I ask if he’d be offended if I just stayed at Mom’s while I’m going to school. He hesitates, almost as if taken aback, and then replies, “no, of course not.” He says I can do whatever I need to focus on school. I notice we’re under a large oak? tree that splits near the bottom. I’m now in the house here (Dad’s?), I think with Mom and Makayla. There is indication of past activity, though no one is currently here. There are two boxes of Panda Express open on the counter, each with a glass of white wine sitting too near the edge. I notice about five of the Lagunitas beers, all opened and partially finished. It makes me a little mad because he all of them without asking

I am with Melissa in Virginia City at a brewpub or something similar. We’ve parked along the side of the road and it seemed like more of a steep incline, like the road around Tahoe. We walk up and take seats at the counter. The waitress seems a little younger, nice, and laid back. I look at the beer menu and the double door beer fridge. The fridge seems to have a better selection, and I decide on picking something from it. An older lady walks up to it and grabs a Black Butte Porter. I notice a ceramic, 11oz bottle of Delirium Tremens. I also notice, at the very bottom, what looks like ceramic, 2 L sized containers of Delirium on their sides. I wonder the price of each and then go grab one of the small bottles. I sit back down and think we’re going to order food also. The waitress is talking about something going on, but has to explain it because it’s our first time here. I now pour my beer into a regular pint glass. I realize it is not Delirium Tremens, but rather Delirium ‘Trem’ or ‘Tremen’, which I assume is a different style of beer from the same brewery. I think it is a saison. It is a very nice hazy light orange, and it tastes very good. I notice that Melissa has a tulip shaped glass with a little bit of water in it; I think about stealing it to use instead of the regular pint glass. I also think this beer is closer to 4% than the 8% of the Tremens. I think about being responsible since I’m driving, but I also think about how it’s nice up here and how we could just not worry about going back and go to a few more places.




I’m driving to Carson City, and the freeway seems more straight ahead and lower in elevation. It is sunset, and the sunset is beautiful. The clouds are thick and heavy and dark, full of dark orange and red and spots of purple. I see the backyards of houses to my right. I know they’re close to the freeway, but they still seem nice. The yards are small and close together, most with a good assortment of trees, some with string lights. I think about living out here since it’s smaller, thinking the drive might be worth it if I worked out south and/or mainly stayed out here. I think that it would be closer to Tahoe.

I am at a tap house or something similar, deciding between a few options. I either decide on a stout or the female bartender just pours one for me. It comes in a small looking glass, almost pitch black. I try it and it is pretty good, not amazing, but enough to remind me of my appreciation for stouts.

I am in some room, maybe a kitchen, in a house or building that seems to be by a beach, probably on the ocean. The place is dim and seems to be empty, except for Dad, who is here celebrating his birthday. There is no one here, so I assume it is just too early for them to be showing up. He shows me a little machine on the counter top that has a few tap handles. There is what looks like a thin, green hose. On it is a circular piece with an indentation (like one for a screwdriver), which corresponds to a piece on the machine. Once inserted, it can be turned and creates a sound like it is adding carbonation or something similar. It also allows the beer to come out. I look at the options and choose a witbier. I pour it into my Artown cup at a 45 degree angle. It seems to pour quickly, but doesn’t produce much head. I take a sip and it is pretty tasty. I look at the other options, two being home brew?, one IPA, and a Revision IPA with a pretty cool graphic (space?). I think the others are more eclectic, constituting a pretty decent selection for so few handles. I think I am going to go sit outside.




I am seeing a video of Dad at some circular bar counter that looks to be encircling a pool. The whole thing is not very big, but it looks pretty cool. I think we’re supposed to be on a family trip and he’s already there without us. I then see a filter or location on the video that says he’s only at an airport (in Vegas?). Now I am where I think we are going, I think with Makayla. The place is a fairly large and high ceilinged room with a large, rectangle pool in the center. Along the walls around it are what look like doors to hotel rooms. We start looking for one that’s open. You can’t really tell what’s locked or not by looking at it, and I feel weird trying all the door knobs. It seems like most are locked. I get towards the end of the row and hear movement behind one of the doors. The very last door then opens, and coming out of it is a boy probably in his late teens, with long and center parted dirty blond hair, wearing only what looks like boxers or small swim trunks. I assume he is about to swim. I consider asking him to see the inside of the room, but think it’d be a little too intrusive.




I am with Sage and her old friend Sierra Fiester in some large room with a bouldering wall. The bouldering wall is not too long, but it is pretty tall and slightly overhanging. I am attempting a problem and its big move. There is a thin crash pad on the ground that I have them move, since it is not where I’d need it if I were to fall. I ready myself for the big move out right, but never commit, afraid to fall. I end up just using different holds to climb to the top, a little disappointed in myself. I still try to make it harder, with big moves and small holds, including small crimps. I use a large half-moon shaped hold (the one from Rocksport and Basecamp), I think getting a hand or two and a heel on it at one point. I am making loud vocalizations of effort at each move.

I am meeting Melissa at some tap house. I walk in and survey the place, as it is new to me. It is a long building and somewhat dim. The bar counter stretches along the wall to my left; there are tables along the (brick?) wall to my right. The place feels casual and homey. Before I can get much further, I notice Melissa to my right, seated facing towards me at the first table in. We meet up and then I go up to the counter. The man behind it seems friendly and patient with me taking my time to choose something. I’m deciding between a light lager and a ‘sweet red ale’, both of which I think are from familiar breweries. I think the red is supposed to be like a Flanders red, so I go with that one. It comes out in a chalice like pint glass that looks a little frosty. The beer is a deep, dingy red/maroon. I taste it, and it is indeed sweet, almost cloyingly, but not quite. It is unique.

I am what I think is LeadDog with Dad (I’ve never been there, but in the dream this fairly nondescript and small outdoor seating is LeadDog). We’re sitting at a small, wire, circular table close to the wall. I think we might be with one other also. A waitress comes over for drink orders. Dad goes ahead, and I feel like I haven’t really had enough time, but I just ask for the IPA. I think we’ve gotten food also, and it comes out before the drinks. When the drinks finally do come, I receive a pint glass only about ¼ full. Dad’s is not much fuller. The beer is sort of a nice looking hazy orange, but I can’t believe how empty the glass is. I am turned off by the poor service and think about leaving a bad review. Now, Dad has left me and wandered off inside. After a while, I look for him. Through the window I see him with some tan guy about his age in a tank top cut off at the shoulders. Their arms are over a stool like they are going to arm wrestle, but they’re both holding a stein of beer. I guess the objective is to see who can hold it longer. They seem to struggle, though they’re only 0.5 liter steins. I go inside and the atmosphere seems a little better.

(fragment) I am outside and walking along a thin dirt trail. It descends a short but steep incline, crosses what looks like a thin dry creek, and then ascends another hill. There is a lady coming down the incline opposite me. She stops and makes sure no one is coming before she crosses the dry creek. I see her do this and give her a thumbs up to let her know she’s clear. She then passes me and makes a rude, unjust comment about me doing that for her. Angry, I aggressively cuss her out. I don’t get why she would get angry over my doing that.



(fragment) I am in a store and debating buying a book. It is a slender book of current need-to-know beers written by a woman. It seems too short, but I think it could be a good addition to my collection, especially since the small, yellowish sticker on it informs me that it’s only $1. I think I start off but then go back for it

I am at the Alibi brewery with Melissa. It looks mostly different though - the bar area is smaller and seems shorter, with seating at the counter. It faces the chalkboard tap list and wraps around the end at a 90 degree angle, which is where we sit. It is not very crowded, but there is a fair amount of people, probably right before it gets busy. It is dim and laid back. Right away, a blond girl in her early 20s comes over to get our drink orders. Naturally, Melissa wants a water. She then looks to me, but I haven’t had enough time to choose a beer. I know there is one that I want, but I can’t think of the name. I say “uh…” while looking at the list, hoping she’ll help me out a little. Instead, she just says something like “wow, you do hate me/why do you hate me?” It could’ve been a playful joke, but with the way she said it, it came off as serious. She leaves and them comes back later for a food order. Melissa gets chicken strips. I’m still pretty turned off by the girl’s comment, so I don’t think I get anything, and she doesn’t seem to care anyway. Melissa now has her chicken strips, and they have brought me a beer. It’s only about ¼ full. I sip it, and it is the one I was thinking of (it tastes like some German style, maybe a doppelbock?) and tastes good. I just can’t really believe they served it that empty, so I snapchat it to Brittney. The bill is $40, $20 a person I figure. I want to tip her absolutely nothing, and I don’t think it would be unjustified. I consider writing her a note on the receipt as well.

I am in the garage of some unfamiliar house. I have just come down here, and I notice that it’s fairly cluttered and dim (it almost looks like/feels like it could be very late at night). I notice some empty beer bottles here and there and Dad standing by a fridge. He sees me, is silent for a moment, then starts uncontrollably giggling. He is also by a case of Vienna Lagers. There’s a palpable sadness at observing him like this at this hour. (There was also a blue armchair that I assumed he sat in down here).

I am at some small event in some smaller event room. There are people from work here as well as Sage and maybe her boyfriend. I have come here with Makayla; I think it is somewhere in California. Makayla calls Mom to ask if we can stay here for dinner. I say, mostly to myself since she’s on the phone, that Mom could throw us a 20 and it would help. Mom says yes, inciting a subdued bout of excitement. I envision taking an Uber back just as a humorous scenario, mentally gawking at what it would cost if they even go that far. I am seated now, at the end of one of two tables that abuts the other. Against the wall and on smaller display tables are the beers on tap. Each actually looks like its own little machine - they range in appearance from slushee machines to small drink vending machines, etc, each with their own design for the beer within. Evelyn from work is looking at them all, very closely. I wasn’t going to go up and look at them alone, so I take this opportunity. There are some fairly good options, but nothing amazing. I think I see the Sierra Nevada Torpedo. I think there is a porter and a hefeweizen, the hefe in what looks like a pineapple yellow pina colada machine. I think its name is slightly off - actually Heineken or something? I think I decide to pass on it because it seems like a bad imitation of the style. I think I end up with a glass of the Torpedo. I’m now seated again, across from Sage and maybe her boyfriend. The apparent host, a petite, bald, bespectacled man wearing a white apron around his waist, is coming around and jovially making sure everything and everyone is okay. Everyone seems to be uplifted by this quaint man’s demeanor. He takes Sage’s order, which is ‘spare pork’. I now see a plate of it in front of her, three or four generously sized slices of pork. He looks at me now, and I want the same thing, but ‘spare pork’ sounds wrong, so I say instead ‘the same thing’. I notice my drink is a few sips away from being empty. I want to order another while I have the service available, but I also don’t want to ask for more while I still have some.




I am working a wedding. I am standing outside and near the entrance gate to what seems to be a large, upscale country club. Everything seems spread out, showcasing the grassy, and in places marshy, land. It seems like a pleasant day. I am holding a fairly big gift bag - it is for the couple whom I just saw but now cannot find. I feel sort of out of place. I want to get this gift to them, but guests keep showing up, expecting me to direct them. A lifted, impossibly white truck approaches; the driver is impeccably clean cut and dressed in an effortlessly classy and flattering suit. Through his open window, he tells me that he likes my shoes. They are my new ones (that I bought at work). I’m also wearing dress pants and a tucked dress shirt. He now asks me where the ‘halfway point’ is, and I hesitate. He asks again, kind of snootily, as if I should know right away. It makes me feel kind of stupid. I then recall an image of a white line on some asphalt, so I tell the man to continue on and he will see the halfway point marked with a white line, gesturing with my hands. To my left, I see the asphalt walkway meandering through and then becoming obscured by some tall grasses. I see men in suits walking with girls in dresses, all pastel colors, and it is idyllic. I now start walking, but I am not on any walkway. The ground is marshy; my feet start to sink enough to get the tops of my shoes wet. Beth has apparently been watching me and asks what I’m doing. I inwardly agree with her sentiment and start to come back. I still want to give them this gift though, so I start again, though this time I seem to be holding onto some kind of ledge and traversing with my feet also on some small lip of something more solid than the marsh. It all seems cramped and small and obscured by the foliage. *It is as I’m doing this that I hear my alarm go off.




Mom is in my room and has apparently been going through my stuff, as she is holding up what’s left of a joint in a plastic bag that was hidden in my laundry basket. She seems really upset, mad, or disappointed. I’m not sure why; it’s really not that big of a deal to me. She’s also holding some new clothes she got for me. There are some tank tops on hangers and some red and blue underwear that look more like Speedos. I take them and hang them in the closet; they are a tight fit. I think I’m getting ready to go to class or work.




I am in the bathroom with Melissa. I am naked at least from the waist down, and using some hair removal cream? on my pubic region. For whatever reason, I start rubbing it on my lower legs, until it starts to feel like there’s less hair (I didn’t intend to remove the hair on my legs). I tell Melissa I just accidentally removed all my leg hair and she doesn’t believe me. I rub my legs, feeling only skin and stubble.

I am about to go to a party with Amy, Blake, Salina, etc. Melissa is with me right now, and I think we’re at Dad’s. We go into the garage to pick a few beers from a case (*they look like the Lost Coast ones). While we’re getting ready/are ready, a dark SUV pulls into the driveway. The people about our age in it are dressed up like it’s Halloween and are coming back from this party like it’s already over. One of the guys seems a little too intoxicated. We stop and talk with them for a little. Now I’m thinking about the possibility of them offering weed at the party. I consider if I’d accept or not and how much, if any, I’d mix with drinking.




I’m in a bedroom, writing down either the notes for a dream I’ve remembered or the dream itself. Dad and Scottie are in here too. Scottie is awkwardly watching me, seemingly amazed. It’s kind of annoying, and I think about going to a different room.