rshort1202

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.

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.