• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    rshort1202

    1. Friday, April 26

      by , 05-07-2019 at 07:29 PM
      I am at work when I notice a shorter, pudgy blond boy holding a shirt and standing right by the mall entrance. He is sort of obscured by the racks of clothes, but i still see him conceal the shirt somewhere on him and then exit. I know Iím not cleared to stop people by myself, and I donít know where Lainey is right now, but I run after him anyway, feeling that it is justified. I go up to him and just tell him that he needs to come back. I let him lead, staying pretty close to him, noticing how young he looks. I ask his name and he tells me. I ask his age, and he tells me something like 13. I think about how old kids are looking for their age these days. At some point a girl has started walking with us, like sheís with him. When we get to the door, I tell them to put their bags and phones up on the desk. I recover the merchandise, hanging it on the wall. There are Nike sweats, two things from Pink, and something from another store. Now, there are three 20-somethings sitting in here, in three chairs facing the desk. They have grabbed the paperwork and are filling it out themselves, nonchalantly. The guy in the middle is even reclining and has his phone set up and playing a video or something. I take it and set it on the desk. Now, it is the boy and girl again. I look over and notice the girl playing a game on her phone. I hit it out of her hand, saying ďGet off your fucking phone, Iím not fucking kidding.Ē Now, it seems a little later, and Iím being invited into a house by a slightly older looking Nathanielís dad. I get the impression that the two earlier were Nathaniel and Beatrice and he wants to talk to me about it. He plays a tape or recording and I hear myself saying what I said earlier and hear the phone hit the ground. He politely tells me that he thinks I was being aggressive. His mom is here now too, and I tell them that Iím very quiet and so I have to try to be more assertive. I tell them we never try to be mean to people there, that we tell everyone it can be easy and we want it to. They seem understanding. I also tell them that like half of the people we get are homeless and that itís saddening.
    2. Wednesday, April 10

      by , 05-03-2019 at 10:52 PM
      I am working, though this place does not look like work. It almost seems like something at the Legends, like a department store at the edge of a shopping mall and its large parking lot. Laynie and I are watching cameras when we notice an old lady stuffing jewelry into her purse in a deserted aisle. I think she is with 1-2 others, and they may be doing so also, but we only see the lady do it. We go out into the parking lot after her to stop her. She comes back, and now Iím alone with her in what looks like a large, empty fitting room stall. Thereís a desk in here, on which are all the stolen items that were in her bag. There are about 3 to 4 boxes of different shapes and sizes. I am asking her questions and filling out paperwork, confidently. I ask things like why she did it and if sheís done it before. I feel in charge, but I am also being nice with her. I canít really read her, but she seems to not care.


      *The following seem like fragments, but are probably part of this dream since the fitting room and parking lot seem the exact same.

      Laynie and I have gone out into the parking lot to stop a few teen girls. As soon as one sees me approach and try to talk to her, her face reddens and she turns hard to avoid me. They try to run from us as we yell that they could come with us or we could call the cops.

      I have brought a teen couple back into the fitting room with the desk. I am being funny and friendly but serious with them. They donít seem to care that theyíre in here. I have them turn over the stolen merchandise, and they start stripping off tons of clothes and concealed clothes. Iím almost impressed with how much they have - I think I tell them this. It seems like they do this almost professionally.
    3. Monday, March 18

      by , 03-19-2019 at 06:41 AM
      I am in what I think is a Kohlís (though Iím not sure it really looks like one). Iím with a familiar? guy and bringing some clothes to the fitting room to try on. They seem to all be on hangers. The fitting room is a stall set atop a little raised platform. The door is sized so that one can see the occupantís feet as well as just above their head. For a moment, I am watching either myself or someone else; the clothes can clearly be seen hanging. I ponder the result of this on theft, thinking it probably lessens it. I donít think I end up getting anything.




      I am in what I think is a movie theater. It seems like it is a much older building, or like I am in the past. There are mostly middle aged hippies filling in and into the theater. Iím in a sort of hallway outside the theater; I pull back a curtain over an opening and get a glimpse of the theater. I then go find a seat. Looking around, Iím very surprised I donít smell pot. It does look hazy though. This film that is being shown is very psychedelic, not in an overdone or hackneyed way, but in a very synesthetic way. The clips or scenes are disjointed and cause visceral sensations. It seems the film is being shown to elicit collective response that becomes the spectacle itself. The whole thing is very phantasmagorical
    4. Monday, February 25

      by , 03-02-2019 at 08:40 PM
      I am at work and entering the fitting room. I am not alone either; at least four other people are also entering at the same time. I notice a fairly dirty looking guy in his 20s and his female companion. He has long and shaggy brown hair (or dreads) and baggy clothes, and she has dark hair and pants and a somewhat skimpy purple tank top. The guy, with a sort of detached fervor, starts grabbing anything in reach on the folding tables (I notice a folded dress shirt) like heís going to take them into the stall and steal them. I think he has not noticed that I work here. I say ďhey manĒ kind of casually, which startles him and causes him to look guilty and remorseful. I think he leaves now, and I start checking the stalls. Most have a floor completely obscured by tried on and tossed clothes. One contains a man passed out or sleeping on the floor and amongst the clothes. I donít even know what to do. Now I am helping ring up customers, and I notice the guy what was going to steal. He is actually buying a pair of black slacks.




      I am with Melissa in a bed. I think we are just cuddling and talking. Now out of nowhere it begins to snow. Almost immediately the roads are covered. (It looks like downtown, like the street parallel to the river and behind the movie theater). I offer to give her a ride wherever so she doesnít have to drive in it. I think itís out of the way or will create a problem with where the cars are, but I donít mind going out of my way. Now, I am driving us somewhere. I think Melissa says something about the speed, as if Iím going too slow. Right after, the car violently slides out and then corrects itself after a tense moment.




      (I think this one was part of another dream that I canít recall. It has a weird feeling to it). Iíve been watching a movie that is or is very similar to Hereditary. I have an image of Charlieís decapitated head in my mind. It looks more animated and like it has more skin on the face, around the eyelids and lip areas. I think there is some distinct, enigmatic, seminal plot to this movie that I canít stop thinking about.




      I am sitting at Melissaís kitchen table in the seat facing the sliding door. At least Carlos and one other family member is here. Theyíre talking about late puberty? (like in their early 20s). I lift my bare leg up so they can see the hair on it and say ďI havenít seen my legs since like fourth grade.Ē It elicits some chuckles. I then feel slightly self conscious about putting my bare foot on their table.
    5. Wednesday, February 20

      by , 02-24-2019 at 12:06 AM
      I am at work when I discover a huge rack of clothes that need to go back. (This place doesnít look like work, but more like a storeís vestibule for shopping carts crossed with, now that I think about it, the womenís fitting room that I brought clothes to yesterday. Their rack was very full). Upon closer inspection, the myriad pants? look new, like theyíve just gotten here and are ready to be put on the floor. So I instead enter one of the fitting rooms, instantly disappointed that I do, finding a small sea of tried-on pants left on the ground. I notice a lot of their tags - Levis? As I filter through them, I think I find evidence of shoplifting. I end up finding quite a few fake bills (20s and 50s I think). I hold them up to the light, making the ink on them appear to have been drawn on. This and the crude renditions of the faces on the bills is quite humorous.




      I am at work? (it seems to be the area above the escalators that is still near the clothes but is mostly now the area for appliances). I seem to be in a large kitchen model. I think there is an island counter surrounded by a large L of counter space and a plethora of cabinets. A middle aged couple and the mom of one of them come over now. The wife tells me she is looking for a cookie cutter. I start looking for her, genuinely trying, searching every single drawer and cabinet, left to right. I come across a total of three circular apple slicers, one of which I offer as the closest thing we have to a cookie cutter. She politely declines, but genuinely thanks me for looking, then tells me to have a nice day and leaves. I consider bringing one of the apple slicers to Dadís. I now look in a drawer very close to the ground and find a bunch of newspaper clippings. They are ads or sales. One is offering a pizza for a certain price contingent upon you reviewing some place. I see a 13 near the top, leading me to believe that it is from 2013. I also discover a few black shirts - Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails band shirts. They are marked down with turquoise clearance stickers on their tags. I think that Mom is keeping them in here so she can give them to me as (Christmas?) gifts later. I think about how I donít even really know NIN and how the prices will probably be expired by now. There is also a soft looking, navy blue Grateful Dead shirt that I think is going to be for Dad. Makayla is here now, on the phone, and she asks what we should get for Dad. I tell her I donít know.
    6. Monday, February 11

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:42 AM
      I am working at Dillardís, and it seems like Iím working the fitting room in menís. A middle aged man comes in and is looking for something, a suit coat I think. I think I help him find one. He tries some on and finds one fairly quick. Before he leaves the dim fitting room, he asks me if domestic? or something else is okay, sort of discreetly. I hesitate and tell him Ďdomesticí. He nonchalantly thanks me while holding out a wad of bills. After heís gone, I see a receipt for $100? and a tip of $40 - what he gave to me.
    7. Thursday, January 31

      by , 02-12-2019 at 06:18 AM
      I am with Melissa in some clothes store. I carry three pairs of Levis as we casually go into a fitting room stall and close the door. Itís just big enough for the two of us. Without me trying to do so, the ink tag on one of the pairs separates and comes off. I try them on and they fit very well (though theyíre a little long). Theyíre sort of a faded Tahoe blue in color. Since they fit and the security tag fell off, Iím going to wear them out under my other pants. I tuck the cuffs into my socks for extra invisibility, and with my shirt back on they are entirely concealed. I briefly consider where to leave the ink tag, though it doesnít matter a whole lot. I think about bringing the other two pairs back out, but then know it would be suspicious without the other pair I came in with, so I leave them in here. We casually walk out (into the mall?) and towards what would be the food court. We get in line for something (Brooke may be with us) Thereís a guy about our age or younger in front of us. One of his friends appears and starts snaking his way in front of us. He has something with him that says (or he is labeled?) ĎLaddersí. The first guy is ĎChutesí, so I guess it makes sense for them to be together and donít fuss about him cutting. Melissa is holding a drink, a thin and tall glass clutched at chest level. This second guy starts grabbing at it, which is when I start to have a problem. He tries to make casual conversation. I clasp my hand on his shoulder, and, in a sort of fake amiability, pull him aside with more of a shove. I ask/tell him something. The first guy has his phone out and, sensing this new tension, bluntly says something to Melissa about her unfollowing/blocking him. Without missing a beat, she coolly responds with something to the effect of Ďnot a chanceí or Ďnot in a million years.í i get the sense that maybe weíve met them before and she was receptive on social media to be polite and/or because they didnít seem too bad. We now pay for the mini golf? at the counter and go wait at some tables outside. Oddly enough, we are still going to be mini golfing with them.




      I am at work when I discover that there is more to recover than there should be. Clothes are misplaced and strewn in random places. I notice a section in particular that no one attempted to fix while I was gone. This really irritates me, but I start working on it anyway. On top of a shelf there are pins and nails and the paper filling from inside the shoes. I see Rocio over here, so I go talk to her. She speaks a lot in Spanish, repeating some things. I understand some of it, trying to reply in Spanish too. I think she asks if I am going to teach. I tell her maybe, really considering it. The large, yellow cup from Dadís is here and full of water. I take a large swig.




      I am at a very small concert festival with Melissa. I see a lineup poster by a stage - Venom is playing at the same time as another band (theyíre both headlining though?). Melissa asks me to pick which one we should watch. I pick Venom because they sound familiar. They come on and start, and Melissa rushes to the stage. I imagine moshing.
    8. Saturday, January 26

      by , 02-12-2019 at 04:46 AM
      I am at work, in the clearance section. Two or three guys are browsing together over here; one of them approaches me, holding a pure white men's jumpsuit, saying heís looking for a different size. I quickly scan all of the hanging white items as well as the single rack thatís on the wall by the jeans. I come back over to tell him that I didnít find any, when we see a folded, white dress shirt on the cream white and fairly empty shelf in front of us at shoulder height. I casually offer it as a possible substitute. He unfolds it to find out that itís actually a tuxedo vest. He says something like Ďoh nice, a vest,í like it would actually work for him. As he is unfamiliar and possessing of a sort of expressionless face, I canít tell if heís being serious or if heís fucking with me. I now unfold another, and this one is actually a dress shirt. Itís close to a jumpsuit in only the material - itís heavier, like a broadcloth, also a cream white. This guy is actually happy with it and is going to get it. After they have left, I end up putting some items in the clearance next to the kids shoes. The shoes are on a torso-high display and looking pretty disheveled. There are way more things in this section than in real life. I start walking somewhere else, and the whole place is different and much larger than in real life. It seems more open; thereís a sort of skywalk to another part of the mall (or casino? - it feels a little like a casino). Over by it, I briefly help a Hispanic man look for something before I go to do something else. I end up over by the suits fitting room. Thereís a computer desk at the wall opposing the opening at which sits Evelyn. I have the impression that someoneís been trying to call me on this radio, but Iím not entirely sure. I ask Evelyn if they have, and she says yes. Someone (the lady at work with sort of darker skin and frizzy hair who I think is a supervisor and whose name Iím not sure of) starts walking over to me, saying that I didnít really help my customer if I didnít completely follow through (referencing the Hispanic man). She directs our attention to the man who is standing on the skywalk, arms crossed, but not in an unpleasant way. Heís wearing a plum colored long sleeve with a vest over it, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He seems dependent on the help, not in a co-dependent way, but more like he is turning the trust over to the employee. I tell this supervisor sorry, I was helping someone else and so my radio was down, slowly adjusting the volume up as I speak. I do feel poorly for leaving him and for not hearing the radio. I tell her I know I was helping him, but I forget what for, and ask if she knows. I genuinely am trying to remember. Thereís another employee too, and they look slightly incredulous. I canít tell if they find it funny or think Iím stupid or both. At one point, someone was ridiculing me for something, and it irritated me enough that I considered bringing it up to someone higher up. Anyway, I attempt to make it right and start walking over to the man. There is a rush of people moving in both directions, causing me to lose sight of him. I reach the top of the incline on this skywalk so I can survey it all the way to the bottom, but he is nowhere to be found. I double back and still, nothing. Iím by an elevator now; it is closing, so I get the notion to jump into it while I can. Literally jumping forward into it, the doors brush me on each side before closing on my JCP key lanyard trailing behind me. I pull it out and turn around to be greeted by two Hispanic men. They both seem genial and good-natured, and they both seem to think my jumping into this elevator was somewhat funny if not unexpected. One of them is shorter and more portly; I think he has a mustache. I dryly say either ďthat was closeĒ or ďjust barely made it.Ē They begin talking to me, slipping into Spanish. It is too fluent for me to understand most of it. I think on a different floor now, I see the door closing. It is closing on a chubby white family with a daughter. I donít know why we havenít let them on, so I am awkwardly diverting my glance. Doors closed now, we need to choose a floor. They tell me Ďtresí and I go to press 3 but mistakenly press something else. I canít entirely read the numbers on the round, silver buttons. For whatever reason, I end up just pressing all of them, the off white light illuminating behind each in succession downwards. I think the elevator is going to the highest floor first. It ascends, and part of the wall must be glass, because I can see what looks like the Atlantis casino outside the elevator. [As in looking into the Atlantis (from within) from the elevator, not as in looking out at the Atlantis]. I think the men now exit and I continue up one more floor. The doors open, revealing a floor that appears to be one huge hot tub. Thereís a low ceiling and dim but colored (blue?) lighting that plays on what is either bubbles or an excess of foam. Thereís an unassuming swim up bar, and I think a pool up above it. A young boy climbs up and over the bar counter to get to it. I donít think Iím in the water, but I am conscious of its proximity to my clothes and my radio. I start to think about staying here and using the hot tub, imagining sneaking onto the hotel room floor to find a towel from a room being serviced or the service cart itself. I wonder if anyone at work would notice my prolonged absence, but figure itís a large place so maybe not.