rshort1202

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 in a fairly large used bookstore. The shelves are dark wood, tall, and full. The aisles are large and grid-like, but the place seems dim. It has a cluttered but homey atmosphere. I’m looking through the large ‘H’ section for Aldous Huxley. There is a couple looking at this section too; I politely step around them, but I think they are right in front of where I need to be. I think they move and I find a couple of Huxley books. I am now looking at a narrow shelf at the end of one of the aisle shelves. There are two cassettes? and their covers are two different pictures of Makayla and some guy on the beach. They are both in swimsuits and standing next to each other, arms around one another. It looks like Hawaii. I find it slightly odd that these are here and wonder why they are. There is also a haphazard stack of small, square, used notebooks. I flip through one, intrigued by going through someone else’s writing. I notice a date - 2000 or 2001. At the end, there is a picture of a hand holding a pen or pencil.




(I think this may be a part of the last dream, but it also may not be). I have arrived in Hawaii. I think it is the big island and I think I may be meeting up with Jim and Rhianna. I’m walking through some foliage, toward the beach. The plants thin and give way to an expanse of sand that slowly slopes to the ocean. The sun is shining languorously on the interspersed people enjoying this space, and the whole scene is peaceful and beautiful. Now, I am on a plane back. It is very dark out, but I notice buildings that are dangerously close… until I realize that this plane is graceful landing on a wide freeway, on which I think there are still cars. It looks like the bay area.

I am walking along the sidewalk through what seems like midtown closer to downtown, I think on my way to work. There is a brick building that appears to be a neat looking bookstore through the window. I decide to go in. Inside, it seems like mostly a large, square area with tall, wooden bookshelves. Many books seem to be facing out, their covers on display. I’m surprised and delighted by the selection of books about dreams, spirituality, etc. I am also holding a book that I think I’m returning. I make my way to the counter to wait. The apparent manager is an older middle aged lady that is currently talking with another woman or two. She gives the impression of being very kind and homey. She also has not noticed me or has disregarded me, but I find it hard to fault her as she seems to be in an engaged conversation with the other two. I check my phone for the time (:55?) and know I have to get going. I think I’ll have to come back sometime later.