rshort1202

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.

I am working outside at Grassroots. The space doesn’t actually look like what we have; it’s more of an open dirt space with some tables, tents, and boxes, and I don’t see the store in the background. I’m sitting under a smaller shade tent, making a card. I must’ve put glue on the front, because I’ve poured quite a bit of sprinkles (pinks, whites, and purples) on and am shaking it slightly so they’ll settle and coat the front. Before I can finish, Ben comes over and asks if I want to learn ‘the fire’. I say yes, setting the card down and getting up to follow him. He’s not wearing a mask, so I am able to see his face. There’s a fairly large fire pit with a stainless steel ring around it that they use to do some kind of work. I’m not sure we’ve done anything yet, when everyone sits around the pit for lunch. I think that someone here makes lunch for those what want it but that about half of everyone has brought food. I have a grocery bag full of smaller bags of food items that is resting on my feet dangling over the edge of the pit. The pit is maybe ten feet across and there’s probably ten to twelve of us. I notice the different extents of mask wearing. Most don’t wear one, allowing me to see some faces for the first time. I wonder, but am not worried, about us all being this close. No one else seems to mind either. At some point, I am by Zoe. She is pretty close to me, and I notice how she’s wearing a thin, light blue bandanna over just her nose. I’m not sure how this is even done; there seems to be a twist in it - it’s coming from the side - that allows it to barely hang on. I’m thinking that it makes no sense and is bold for her. She happily tells me not to worry, that I ‘won’t be getting her air.’ I’m not sure.




I’m approaching what seems to be a very hipster restaurant. It looks like Midtown, and I think I’m with two others (not sure who). There’s a section of outdoor seating that is a small triangle, the side of which is a thick, split rail fence. The picnic style seating is overcrowded with lots of black band shirts and long, greasy hair - that kind of crowd. We go in and are seated now. Our waiter is friendly. Looking through the menu of two to three pages, I decide that the place is overpriced. There’s a ‘dog’ (hot dog?) something for $20. At the top of the menu, it says something to the effect of: If something doesn’t come with a side, we’ll try to come up with something else. I notice a menu item that I think is some kind of pasta that I like for a reasonable ($12-13) price. The waiter sees me looking and says yes, it means what I think it does. I’m not sure I even asked him. He says part of it means salad or something about a salad. I think he brings out beer now. I am putting a bottle cap into an orange, plastic ring where it snaps into place. It looks like the plastic rings for a six pack of cans, but small enough to fit bottle caps instead. I think about possibly getting some beer on draft too because I see two guys at a counter with a pint of lighter beer each. They look younger and, for whatever reason, like they’re from California (they look extremely average, though). There’s a blond guy sitting alone further down this long bench. He is small but buff. He’s wearing jeans or overalls and a tight shirt. I think he’s talking on the phone and he sounds absolutely vapid. For some reason, I think he’s ‘typical Reno.’




I’m in a large, opulent house on a hill where I know Jim, Rhianna, and Ella are staying (I don’t think I ever think of John - it’s almost like before he was born?). There’s something about a storm heading this way, over the nearby ocean. I’m looking for everyone, but they all seem to be taking a shower. I think Ella and Rhianna are in the same one or at least the same bathroom. I go into a dark bedroom and open the bathroom to see a dim light on and hear the shower with low water pressure running over a person. I know Jim is in there, so I wonder why all these lights are out.




I’m with Melissa, and we’ve ended up at Dad’s house. This house is actually very large and opulent. I think we’re on the second floor, in the spacious kitchen with marble counters and nice wood cabinets. I smell something good and then notice a plate of barbecue chicken. We now decide that, on second thought, the smell is not that good. Dad now shows up; I didn’t know he was here.

I am walking on a path that is about to fork and incline up a hillside. I think Mom or someone else is with me. There are also two middle aged or younger women that have been walking fairly close to us. They start talking with us, asking if we think they can manage the uphill. They seem kind of sketchy to me, so I try to get them to take the path in the other direction. They end up choosing to do so, and I think it is so they don’t have to keep walking awkwardly close to us. On the uphill now, the path is narrow and sandy. I see the women walking off in the other direction and one is pulling a cart behind her, so I guess it’s good they didn’t come this way anyway.




I am outside somewhere with Melissa, and we’re walking up to some pizza place. The storefront has some windows - I see no door - and a stainless steel counter top. There are a few picnic style tables crowded together in the front, currently all full (I think with only men). The owner? is sitting among everyone, facing us, and I hear him call out for someone’s order. He has an air of being among everything in a perfectly friendly way while also being on top of all the operations. He seems shorter and rotund, shaven and with short but thick brown hair, and genial. He takes a pizza on a white paper plate and tosses it to someone like a frisbee. It nears the ground and then slows impossibly until the guy grabs it. We’re now sitting across from this guy at a high table. He is eating from a plate of something. There are a few, three?, beers brewed/served here, and I contemplate getting one. I think they’re all IPAs, which I’m not too thrilled about. The guy refers to one as ‘thickest/dankest’? and I decide that it does sound good. I offer to get him one, and he says something about not needing another, but says yes anyway. I can tell by his grin and behaviors that he is feeling it.

Outside in a parking lot there is what looks like a small carnival/festival tent over some seating. The tent is very low, only a few feet off the ground, causing me to wonder what kind of effect that has on the spread of the virus. I see that it’s a Brewer’s Cabinet ‘information’ tent - it’s spelled out in small light bulbs. They are serving tasters and I think it, with it being dim and nice outside, would be fun. I go into the main building though; it has a mostly light wood interior. I pass through two vestibule type spaces, each only big enough for a person or two. The first has greetings written in various neon colors all over. I think there’s also a menu that I largely pass over. The second space has the beer menu taking up at least two walls and also written in neon colors. There are a few gold winning beers at the top. Each beer is labeled with who brewed it; at the very bottom, this includes even the janitorial staff. I wonder about how good those are. I notice mostly IPAs, but a fair selection of others. At this point, someone comes over to take my order. I’m still looking, so she recommends a brown ale that you then email the brewer with what it tastes like. (I think it’s supposed to ‘taste like poop’?) I tell her no, look for a tiny bit longer, then end up picking it, I think just because a brown sounds good anyway. They tell me its 8.8% and 8 something else, maybe the price? I’m outside with the beer now. I try it and it’s smooth, kind of light, chocolatey, and pretty good. The glass seems somewhat small. I ask a passing server if they have chicken tenders and he chuckles and says not really because they’re so dry. (I think of the ones I got once at Claim Jumpers). I think Melissa is here now, and we’re sitting. There is quite a bit of seating. We put up an umbrella that is pretty structurally unsound.

I’m coming home to Mom’s after having left Melissa’s. Ryan’s car is backed into the driveway and I see him out front. I think I get mad and yell at him, causing an altercation. I’m still in my car and he is on foot, so I start driving after him. He sprints away, which I find funny, but I am genuinely trying to hit him. I think he is now gone and I am on foot and picking up some things he has left by a mailbox. Now, I’m in the house and at the table with Mom and some unknown dirty blond girl probably a few years older than me. I can tell that her personality is not all that attractive and somewhat prude and priggish. I think they’re discussing legal matters regarding the situation and I can’t tell if they’re on my side or his.




I am going to a Flowing Tide with the family. It seems to be in a room off of the main area of a casino or something. When we get in, the place is empty. I notice a sign saying that they open at 7 and at 8. I guess we’ve just missed the 7 o’clock cutoff, but a female server lets us hang out while she cleans. This room has all of the tables and chairs pushed against the walls. I notice all the crumbs on them and on the dark carpet. One of the staff hesitates for a moment, looking it over, looking exhausted. We’re now sitting, and Sage is here. We’ve both ordered beer. Mine is a pint of something autumnal? that is really not all that great. Sage’s is a bomber of a dark/strong beer. I try it, needing two hands to lift the dark bottle, and it is good. It is bitter, but that seems to be the point, and I end up wishing I got this instead. The family is going on a hike after this, but Makayla and I have gone to the wrong spot. The correct spot was right above the Flowing Tide, but we went a little ways away (I think I drove). There is something about Makayla still wanting to do this hike and me just picking her up later. I’m trying to stick to the plan/just go with the flow, and this just seems like an inconvenience.




I am in a bathtub with two men and two women around my age, all unfamiliar, all nude. I don’t think there is any water in the tub, and it’s also just big enough for us all. There seems to be some kind of glass partition around the tub, and the tub seems to be in a bar?room where there are other people. I think we can see out but they can’t see in. I am touching one of the men now; his penis is thick but very short, not sticking up very far past his patch of pubic hair. I seem to be mostly pulling on the skin, and I don’t think it feels that good for him. I touch the other now; his penis is a bit larger and I think I do a better job. Now, a new blond and slightly pudgy girl is here (and I think the others are gone). I’m still naked as she coats my flaccid penis in some black liquid and then sucks it off. I don’t think I like her or this.




I’m in bed with Melissa and we’re talking. She asks what kind of science? I like, and I tell her dreams, music, and space.

I am flying. It seems that I’ve looked around me and noticed that I am maybe fifty feet or so up into the air. I notice the blue sky surrounding me and have to concentrate hard to keep moving upwards. There are two birds that I surpass. I notice a white fence way down below and continue using all of my willpower to stay afloat. There is music playing, seemingly just emanating from the surroundings, that I can hear crystal clear (but don’t remember) and that helps me stay afloat. I think I eventually come down.




I am on a walk and almost back to the house when I notice a house with an open garage. There is an older man sitting in a chair at the threshold with what looks like a border collie at his feet. It looks like he is having a small garage sale with most of the stuff in the garage (I think the driveway is short). I walk up and start petting the dog’s soft fur. I briefly consider the possibility of this spreading the virus, but the man doesn’t seem to care. The man seems friendly and pleased to have company. He says hi, I ask how he is, and we make small talk. Despite his amiability, I sense something slightly off. I notice a box of books and a box of what looks like VHS tapes. There’s really not much more, and nothing that catches my attention. The man asks if I have a MasterCard. I tell him “I have a Visa card,” not sure why he’s asking, unless he has a card reader. I was about to leave, but he starts telling me that he wants me to leave a card since I’ve already looked at stuff. A little baffled, I tell him it’s not that I don’t trust him but I just don’t feel comfortable doing that. Mom now shows up, like she was on a walk too. I tell the man I live right across the street, gesturing to the house directly across the street, asking if that changes anything. He contemplates and then says no. Mom and I just walk away from him; he accepts defeat without a word and sits back down. I notice his kind of creepy, flyaway white hair.




I am in some house; Mom is here too. I open the fridge and see that I have about ¾ of a glass of dark beer left. I wonder if it’s still good. I open some cabinets where the trash should be, but only find a ton of empty craft beer bombers.

I am sitting around a table with Kreg, opposite me, and about eight or so other students. One guy goes first and hardly says anything about his project (I see a fairly simple but not bad looking rectangular model). The group reaction seems very neutral, as there wasn’t much to comment on. I am then volunteered to go next. I tell then I’m doing a beach or riverside area. I say I guess it’s not actually much of a beach, but just a riverside area. I’m imagining a decent sized river slowly flowing through a fairly forested area. I show the group an early model for a chair that is completely geometric, with a large back and a triangular seat. I then show a revised version that is simpler and closer to a traditional chair form. Johnny humorously asks if I actually like the first chair. I say yes and that I like cubism. He chuckles and it looks like he’s going to pull something up on his phone to show me. I now notice a pint sized stein half full of light colored beer on a coaster amidst my stuff. I think others notice it too, and I become embarrassed yet still start drinking out of it after I’m done presenting.

The owner of Beer NV is having me hand out some things - beer and food, I think - to houses, I think because they can’t come inside for service. The neighborhood I am in seems pretty nice. On the porch of the first house I go to, there is actually more stuff than I was going to hand out. On a table there are a bunch of bags of snacks - chips and things. I pick up a good handful and start walking away. I then notice a male voice trailing me; I think the owner of the house noticed what I did. I keep walking and ignoring him until eventually he confronts me. I somehow work my way out of it, and we end up in a trade. I end up with three 12oz bottles of beer. They look familiar and I realize they are German, which makes me happy.

I am somewhere outside? with Melissa, Pepe, and his mom. I think they both look high and then, sure enough, she lets on that they are. She confides in us that Caesar is the head of some pot farm/ selling ring or something similar. I can see it, imagining him and his boisterous personality right now. Now, I am climbing up through some tall and thin wooden structure. I pass through ‘floors’ that are spaces barely bigger than my body. Each side of the space, I think even including the top, is a mirror, making for a trippy experience. I now get to what seems to be the top. It is different because the sides are concave, joining in a small ceiling, and it seems there’s nowhere left to go. I don’t accept this possibility though, and push on one of the sides. It opens and reveals a vast, dim space that I think may be the pot farm.




I am in New York City with Melissa, walking along a sidewalk. The street is busy and I can smell and taste the putrid emissions from passing trucks. The sidewalk is close enough to the street, but it thins even further at one point, leaving hardly any space for foot traffic. We pass a tower with a parabolically curved glass facade. The glass is mostly translucent, but it gets much dimmer higher up. There is a space behind the glass, in which there are large advertisements. Melissa says something about how they won’t even be visible. I agree. We end up in a restaurant that seems familiar (from another dream, I think). I notice a couple about our age in the booth behind us, across from me. They are dressed pretty nice for this place and sitting on the same side. I think about their life. I notice a man in sunglasses sitting alone at a booth diagonal from us. Melissa asks to trade sides, and we do. I look through the fairly short menu and decide I want pretty much the first thing on it, some corn dog things. The waitress, brunette and maybe 30+, comes over and seems out of it, like drunk or sad or something. She gives us a minute. I look at the extensive beer list in the back. They’re sorted by brewery (they must all be local - I don’t recognize any), under the brewery’s logo. The price per beer is then listed after the name, lowest to highest, separated by slashes. Most of the first prices are six to seven dollars, but I see prices like 9,16, 27, 59, etc. I think these prices must be for bottles and/or pitchers but that they’re still ridiculous. I guess that’s just how it is in the city. Nothing sounds too good anyway, so I figure I’ll settle for a slightly cheaper bill. The waitress returns and sits by me, putting her hand on my shoulder. It could be a nice gesture, but with how she is slightly rubbing her hand it is taken a little too far. She takes Melissa’s order and then mine. I say ‘I just found something, where did it go?’, trying to find it again. I find it and tell her while also pointing. She doesn’t say much. She comes back and sits again. This time she reaches over and grabs my crotch. I am a little shocked and put my own hand over it. When I move my hand, she does it again and then leaves. I text or tell Melissa and she just shrugs it off. I want to tell her what kind of reaction there would be if the genders were switched.

I am outside, at Frenchman’s. I am on a walk on a small dirt path through a somewhat vegetated hillside (that almost seems familiar from another dream). There is a small creek and a spot where it ponds up around some grey/tan stones and inclined dirt. I stand up on the stones, bracing myself with my hand against a tree. The tree has many branches close together shooting up steeply from the trunk. It’s kind of high and hard to reach and I’m a little unsteady. I am trying to get a good angle for a picture of the view - a peak in the distance surrounded by a hazy sunset of blue and pink. A little bit closer there is an incline with maybe a dozen small waterfalls falling in straight, shimmering veils. I get a picture of just the peak and evening sky and then one including the falls. I now hear some voices nearing. I’m almost self conscious of being in this situation, but then decide to not care. A group of about two passes, and the next two coming up the hill I recognize as Matt and Sara. I’m not really surprised that they are here. We start talking and Matt offers me a beer. I say “if you insist” and am met with a dark 12oz bottle of a German beer. I’m impressed and excited that it’s German. I say “nice”. The bottle has a black label and an off white dragon or other animal. I try it and it is crisp and kind of malty and strong, like an Irish/Scottish style. I think it seems to get stronger with each sip. We continue walking and have now ended up in some larger, multi story house. I think we are the only ones here and that it might be haunted? We explore a little, and it is creepy.

I am driving up to what looks like some event outside of a school or something similar when I notice Makayla and Mom walking this way on the sidewalk. My window is down and it seems like a very pleasant day. Makayla is holding an imperial pint glass that looks like it is full of very light Guinness or nitro cold brew. I roll up to her and the first thing I say is “my goodness… my Guinness.” She says it’s actually some flavored iced coffee (hazelnut?). I try a sip and it’s really frothy and not all that bad. I think I already have an iced coffee as well. I realize that I’m in the middle of the road and start moving again. There is one intersecting road to the right where I am going to try to turn around, but I think someone has already gone around me.




I am at work when I notice a sketchy person heading towards the men’s shoes. I think he already has some merchandise and a small, empty looking, black plastic bag. When we see him turn the corner again, the merchandise is gone and the bag looks full. We agree that this makes him good to stop, so I try to get downstairs before he does. I do this pretty easily and get by the door that it looks like he is going for. I try to look inconspicuous, and when I look back I see that Bobby is right by him, talking to him, still in the store. I wonder what he could possibly be doing, until I see him start walking him back. This really irritates me. Back in the office, the guy is hesitant but compliant. He seems homeless. He says his name is Kenneth Cox and that he is 46? I get all the paperwork done before calling PD. I ask his birth date, realizing I’ll need it, and he says something like ‘5 o’clock’. He keeps giving me bullshit answers, and I can’t tell if it’s on purpose or if he’s just not all there. I realize he doesn’t have an ID, so PD’s going to have to come anyway. I think of how they may need video and how Bobby stopped him while he was still in the building, which irritates me more.

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.