rshort1202

’m in what seems like a small Lee’s or craft beer store (about the size of a classroom). They have some featured on the walls and larger packages down on the floor. It seems like the ones displayed are not also found on the floor. Some guy is on the phone, telling someone about how it’s confusing. Among the couple of others here, I see Rob. I think that he doesn’t see me. Now, this same space is a bookstore. Melissa is with me as I shop. I’ve grabbed a few hardcover books but now, going through them, decide to put almost all of them back, as they just look like very generic mystery thrillers. I reshelve some that go nearby and just stack the others that don’t (I think that somebody else working here can put them away for a change). Now I see Kris and Rob and we talk briefly. They then sit down with two or so people I’ve never seen before - their other family, I guess - and Kris starts a prayer before they do something.

Melisa and I have moved into a new house (I’m not sure if there’s any concept of our current house or not). I’m in what seems to be a bedroom - the place feels small, like rooms blend together. I’m up on the bed, which is level with a window. It overlooks a gravel lot. There is a parked, dark gray truck and 1-2 other cars. There’s also a house across the way, though I think I don’t actually ever see it. I do know that we feel like the neighbor, Mike, is watching us. He sits in the front seat of the truck, reclining slightly as if he’s napping, but I catch him looking through this window a few times. I use a pair of binoculars and quickly lower them when we make eye contact through them. We think that he could just be wanting to meet us, since he hasn’t yet. Now, a lady sets out a stack of six packs of Sierra Nevada Summerfest with a sign that says 2 for $10 (I think it’s referring to cans). Another guy (another neighbor, I think) appears and grabs a beer with the other guy. I think that they are coming over to meet me.

I’m about to leave from work for home. Mom calls me to say it’s going to take an extra hour. She doesn’t specify, but I become exasperated, knowing it’s traffic. I just want to be home. I head out now, on a bike, and it looks like I’m downtown. I think I see some patches of snow, but there really isn’t any traffic. On the ride, I discover that the bike’s seat is too high for me, causing some awkwardness. I arrive home now, which is a large, empty feeling house. Mom and Makayla are here. Mom has bought me a bunch of NA beer, a kind I’ve never seen before. I try one and it’s not great.



I’m in the kitchen of some house (it feels similar to Mom’s). Looking through the window above the sink, the view is of a partially sunlit hill. It is tall and steep, slightly rocky, yet lushly green. The illuminated portions (it seems like a sun that’s close to setting) are vibrant and awe-inspiring. Maggie and Stella are out in the yard (which just seems like open space) and I think about calling them in.

I am at a brewery (that seems familiar to another dream). There is a modest counter, a large window on its left side and an open doorway to its right. I think there are a couple of others here. I’m standing close to the wood counter so I can read the menu and the bartender looks expectantly at me as if I’m ready. The menu is made of a wood slat for each option - there are maybe 8 or so, a standard sampling of styles.

I’m inside a Total Wine. The store is very large (and it seems familiar to another dream). I walk down a main aisle on my way to the beer section when an employee steps in front of me and hands me a small stack of cash. I wasn’t sure at first if he was an employee - he’s wearing nice but plain clothes and a very subtle nametag. I ask “for me?”, not really sure what to think. He says yes, it’s for me. I take it, two 50s and a couple smaller bills, and move on. I’m now in the beer section, which looks like a corner of the store. There is a pallet of six packs in an aisle, and I see they’re completely out of the only one I was specifically looking for. I keep looking on the shelves; many look good, but I always think there could be a better one yet. Most are dark beers, which is the type I’m after. There is one with a graphic of a pine tree trunk? and a bear print; I think I go for this one, as I’m at the end of my options.

I’m in a grocery store with Melissa. She’s on the phone with someone, so I go off and look at the beer section. It seems to be one long aisle, including the corner at the end of it (I don’t notice any refrigerated section). They have a pretty good selection of beers I’ve never seen before. One is a strong ale that I think is around 13% ABV. A little of the liquid shows above the label - it’s almost completely clear, and I can’t imagine that it’d be any good. I look through everything but don’t find the certain type I wanted or anything to substitute. I meet up with Melissa and tell her this.

I’m at Smith’s, buying two bottles of water and a six pack of beer (I think a Sierra Nevada IPA). I push the cart into the self checkout area and go to one at the end. There’s a flashing light to the right of the screen but I still figure that it’s open. I scan the beer first and the system calls for an attendant. A female employee looks over at me a couple of times but never comes over. I look at the screen and see the whole transaction has been canceled. Irritated, I quickly walk over to the regular checkout. It feels weird to be walking through it this way, but I see another guy doing it ahead of me. An older lady opens a display door into my cart and it makes a loud sound because I’m walking so fast. She says “holy shit”, but I keep moving. In the line now, there is what looks like a mom and older son. They’re a little scruffy, I think in pajamas. They are dividing the cart into three separate purchases. I set my stuff down when space is available and the clerk moves it all the way to her while she finishes talking to the customers. She now greets me and I hand her my ID right away. She tilts it a bit and says ‘we’ll have to take this’, walking away with it. I say ‘okay’, turning up both my palms, a little confused. My best guess is that it’s expired. She returns and hands it back, except I see that it’s a small stack of JCP cards with my mom’s name on them. Oddly enough, Mom is now here, to my right. I dig through my wallet and find Melissa’s ID, showing it to the clerk, humorously saying that my girlfriend is [21 or 25]. I then find mine and notice that I have a mustache in the picture.

Melissa and I are meeting Brooke somewhere. It’s late, 11pm exactly. The place is a bar like Flowing Tide. It has the two divided sides, but then there’s a curtain we go past into another portion. I never knew this section was here. I start looking at the drink menu, which has a ton of beer options. I don’t know what to get. Also, I think we were at a house (probably Brooke’s aunt’s) earlier or after this?



I am bouldering at Basecamp. It feels good and fairly easy. The problems are designated by colored holds, which the walls are crowded with. I try one with a bunch of crimps. I then try something in the cave. I notice people watching from the perimeter of the mat.

I’m going to some restaurant with Makayla. I think it’s Mexican food, and it seems like it’s inside of a strip mall. We sit down at a booth and I pick the cheese enchiladas from the menu pretty quick. They sounded good, but the picture solidifies my decision (*I think I’m actually thinking of the enchiladas we had last night). There seems to be a pretty good beer selection, so I look for something to go well with them. The waiter has come over and Makayla is ordering, so I try to pick something quickly while he’s here. There’s a section of beers from London, two unfamiliar ones and then porter and stout, in that order. I pick one of the unfamiliar ones, trusting it to be good. I tell him something like ‘as long as it’s light’. Now he is bringing a pink beer (maybe a sour or a nitro) but realizes it’s a mix-up. We find which one it seems like on the menu to know which handle it got switched with (29). Now he brings the correct beer and it is very pale, almost like lemonade. It tastes very light too, almost flavorless.

I am going to design a house for someone (for Kreg - for a class?) It starts with me not wanting to, but I then take interest in it. I start sketching a pool that’s pre-existing or being added to the yard while I talk to Kreg on the phone. It’s long and narrow, with some angular changes that seem to only be for aesthetic. This lot is also long and narrow - only 30 feet wide. I am now on the phone with Zoe and telling her this. I tell her that the average house is that wide, without including the setbacks. I get the idea that I’ll have to design this house long and tall. It may be in a mountainous setting, as I’m imagining it with a cabin look. I imagine the second floor protruding on the back side to cover a patio, possibly with a hot tub. Now it seems as if I’m actually at this house, pretty much how I’ve been envisioning it. I’m showing it to some unfamiliar guy about my age. It is pretty impressive, long and low, dim and with plenty of dark wood.



I am at what seems like the GSR or something similar with Brittney. It is somewhat crowded, and masks are not a concept in this dream. I think we’re going to get a beer at one of the places here. The tap handles at the first place I’m not impressed with, so I suggest going to the other one across the way. There were three taps of domestic beer and then a bottle of what looked like a German beer but that I wasn’t sure about. At the place across the hallway space I notice at least two good taps - Revision and something else. I think we get drinks there, and now we’re taking them into a restaurant. The guy here questions our age, I guess because we’re bringing in alcohol?

I am at work. There is a man in line who has a few things and looks somewhat sketchy. He gets up to the counter and asks for some ice because he’s ‘recycling’ his beer. I think this means it’s warmed up and he’s trying to cool it down rather than throw it away. I tell him to hang on a second and go back to get some. I tell a guy in the back this scenario, as if I had to tell him yes. I’m still not sure if this is something we’re supposed to do, but I think it’s fine. The ice bin is long and also full of fabric bags. I fill one, unsure of how much he really needs. Back in the front, I see him with a small stack of DVDs and casually rushing out the front door. Julia is here and says something like ‘Wow, well go kick him out’ as if this was obviously my fault. I run out to at least get a plate. He’s gotten into a small, rusty yellow car with a woman in the passenger’s seat. He has to back straight out, so I see the plate, but it has a plastic covering and the numbers behind it start spinning like a combination lock. Terribly smart, I think, even though it’s disappointing. I pick up a rock and throw it but miss. I try a few more times, even as they’re stopped at a red light down the street.

Arriving at a restaurant, I meet Brooke at a booth. The restaurant seems opulent and large, but almost like it’s inside something else, such as a shopping mall. I’m pretty sure Melissa is coming too. The waitress, cousin Renee, comes over quickly for our order. I think I tell her we need some time. Her interactions are hurried. Looking over the somewhat short menu, I decide on the ‘women’s dinner.’ I don’t care what it’s called - it comes with a few things that sound good. I also look over the drink menu - mostly frilly cocktails. When she comes back, we order. I think about asking if there might be a good beer that’s not on the menu, but decide against it, thinking it kind of desperate.




I am in what seems like a highschool, showing up late to a class. Looking through the closed door, I see almost every seat (~20+) occupied. The teacher must notice me, as she tells me to come in. There is a project that’s due and is being presented today. Mine is a picture or sculpture of a dolphin? with drawn white lines on/below it. (*This reminds me of the painted dolphin sculpture I made and had as a kid.) With a lurch of the stomach I realize that I’m missing a large portion of what I need. I think these things are different line weights and an explanation of the typeset (*This is now reminding me of Dance, Dance, Dance and the Dolphin Hotel). I think that gets communicated to her, and she gives me time to do it. *Typing this a few days later, I’m remembering that sculpture as a whale, not a dolphin.




I am in a plane that has just begun its descent into Reno. I notice that we are very close to the ground already; specifically, it looks like we’re above the riverwalk. Quickly, I begin to think we’re far too low for not being anywhere near the runway. This sentiment is apparently shared with the pilot, as, with an ominous mechanical groan, the plane slows and seems to try to begin reversing. At this point it is all but futile. The plane almost comically collides with a ballard and begins spinning. The pilot works to correct the spin, and we then land not too abrasively on the large sidewalk. The ride was enough to set me a little on edge but not enough to terrify me, seeing how close to the ground we already were. At one point, I saw peoples’ shocked expressions as they watched from behind the curtain wall of a taller building. After the plane has settled, we unbuckle and disembark as if this is not too uncommon.

I’m at some small restaurant. It seems like it’s partially indoors and partially outdoors or maybe is in some kind of enclosed plaza. I think I’m with 1-2 others. We sit at a booth, and there is a little wrought iron fence that can be drawn around it. I wonder about its purpose, if it has a function or if it's merely aesthetic. I look to a booth across the way - it is reserved for ‘the Germans’. I know there is potato salad and German beer here, so I assume they come here regularly for it. I’ve ordered a beer and it arrives as a half full stein. I finish it quickly (I think it’s a lager) and wonder if it’ll be filled again or if I’ll have to pay for another.

Emma and her boyfriend are getting married. We are all at the small venue - a restaurant? - and I get the sense that we’ve travelled a ways for it. The interior is dim, carpeted, with darker wood. There is a mezzanine level with chairs at slot machines that have been turned to a stage on the ground level. I think some of Dad’s and Melissa’s family are here, and I’m sitting by Melissa’s mom. We’re looking at the single page menu that just seems to be a bunch of meats. We’re trying some and I like this certain salted one that I think I’ll order. I’m now up and walking around, looking at different things on the walls, and getting really close as if I don’t have any contacts in. I look at a very small beer menu right behind a table that a small family is sitting at. I’m awkwardly close to them, which they notice, and it also seems like I’m looking at them. I’m at a counter now where I think they are serving beer. There are a few options written on the counter surface and one middle-older aged guy serving. I look for a minute, then order the ESB, thinking it sounds good right now. For a moment I think it’s going to be a sandwich? but then he hands me a paper cup. It looks more like a latte or coffee drink. I try it and it’s good, tasting like a flat white with some kind of spice.

I am in Germany with Mom and Makayla. The first place we go to is a small, unassuming office building. Inside, it looks more like a home that has been converted to an office space. It is a perfect blend of the two. For a short period of time, Makayla and I can’t find Mom. At one point, I see her with a glass of non-alcoholic beer with a few sips missing. Part of me thinks ‘Already?’ There are two German ladies here. They are short and squat, older and very friendly. They speak English with a faint German accent. They work here but do not come off as an ‘employee’, eradicating any ‘us vs. them’ and promoting a genuine sense of helpfulness. The music that is playing here is odd and definitely nothing I’ve ever heard in any office building. It’s fairly loud, a slow and melancholy beat with droning female vocals. Through a window, I see that it is overcast out. One of the ladies says they should do something when it lightens up, gesturing as if she’s parting clouds. Now, I am outside with a different lady. We are sitting on a rocky shore against what must be the ocean. As I sit and observe the scenery and feel the perfect temperature, I am overcome with both grief and something close to euphoria, knowing that this is where I belong and that I’ll have to leave. I think I almost start tearing up. The scenery is rocky, but of soft soil and greenery where it is not. The ocean is calm and dampens the temperature to what I would call perfect. I talk to this lady as a small, wooden pallet drifts this way. There are a few seagulls on it that seem to be steering it. It becomes overcast. I think part of me is aware that Germany is not an island. The lady is showing me a map, pointing us out (a clear island), and showing how close we are to the very southern end of the ‘Hawaiian archipelago.’ There is a succession of maybe ten or so tiny islands to the North until I see the familiar cluster of Hawaiian islands. The rest of the map looks like a bunch of green islands close together on the deep blue of the ocean. She is now showing me where I’ll be staying. The house is two stories, wooden, and facing the ocean. It looks like the entire second story has a deck; we’re walking on it now. We see into one of the rooms, and she is nonchalant, but I’m not sure I like what I see. Looking down into the plain room, I see what looks like a dog bed. On it is a dog collar and some rod-like object. The unsettling part is that I think this is for a human )a captive?). Along the wall to the left there is an open cabinet. Attached to its door are about three black sheathes with different knives. I am disturbed because I thought Germany would be completely pleasant and not at all like this.




I’m outside somewhere that looks similar to Midtown, but I think more residential. From a third person perspective I am watching Donald Trump and his advisor jogging. It seems his ‘advisor’ is trying to keep up with him. Now, I am jogging with them. His pace is fast, and I think of his old age. We turn a corner and head down a straight away. For some reason I imagine someone attempting assassination and how it’d be easy right here; I don’t think he currently has any protection. Now, I am home (the house seems unfamiliar) and I hear some activity in the doorway. There’s a member of the press just inside the door, interacting with someone just out of sight outside the door. He steps into view - it’s Donald Trump. I think I’m naked and/or don’t want him to see me yet, so I hop into the ‘shower’, which is actually the refrigerator. I shut the door and just barely fit in here - I think door’s actually still open just a bit. Pressed up against the sides of this ‘fridge’ with nothing but me in it, I don’t recall my ‘shower’ being this small. I turn the water on and it comes out cold.




I must be performing auto fellatio. I am alone in an almost pitch black
space, feeling the sensations of both giving and receiving oral. It is slow and passionate.




I’m in a store with Mom. she points out a case of beer - it’s all of the World Beer Cup gold winners. The white case is probably almost as long as me and I think $15. Though I know it would be a good choice, I just don’t really want to get it.