rshort1202

I am inside what feels like a gas station, kind of like a Maverick. There is a rolling grill containing the typical gas station hot dogs. I look at the two or three different types and their prices. There is a good price for three of them, so I think I’ll do that. I sort of self consciously think about what I’d look like carrying around three hot dogs with toppings. I now put two each on their own stale looking bun. There’s a fluid that runs off onto the bun; they look terribly under done, but still I keep them. Now, Caitie comes out of nowhere and, apparently working here, asks to see my ID. I’m not sure if she’s joking or not but, as we walk up to the counter, find out that she isn’t. I pull out my ID and give it to her, noticing how long this blue counter is. We talk for a bit and I think she’s really scrutinizing the ID.

I am going on a road trip with Brittney and I think Melissa also. I think that wherever we are going is around eight hours away. I think Brittney is going to drive the whole way, though I think about offering to help since we drive the same car. There is a sense of this being last minute, but not negatively so. Somewhere along the way we stop at a Jack in the Box? I order a number seven - some kind of cheeseburger. I think I initially said small, but the employee asks what size. I start to say large, but he remembers I said small, and it somehow gets brought to medium. Now we are waiting quite a while for our food to come out.




I’m in what feels like the backseat of a car, sitting next to Melissa. I think Brooke and someone else are in the front seats (Brooke in the passenger seat), which seem way too close. Melissa has taken my penis out and is playing with it, I think going down on it once. A flight attendant? squeezes past in front of us, and I put my leg up, trying to hide the hardness against it.

I am sitting alone on some flight of large stone steps that lead down to a body of water. I’ve brought some food so I can sit down and eat it. I’m not sure if I’ve come down here to be alone or to possibly talk to some others. I think there are some others down here.

I am what I think is LeadDog with Dad (I’ve never been there, but in the dream this fairly nondescript and small outdoor seating is LeadDog). We’re sitting at a small, wire, circular table close to the wall. I think we might be with one other also. A waitress comes over for drink orders. Dad goes ahead, and I feel like I haven’t really had enough time, but I just ask for the IPA. I think we’ve gotten food also, and it comes out before the drinks. When the drinks finally do come, I receive a pint glass only about ¼ full. Dad’s is not much fuller. The beer is sort of a nice looking hazy orange, but I can’t believe how empty the glass is. I am turned off by the poor service and think about leaving a bad review. Now, Dad has left me and wandered off inside. After a while, I look for him. Through the window I see him with some tan guy about his age in a tank top cut off at the shoulders. Their arms are over a stool like they are going to arm wrestle, but they’re both holding a stein of beer. I guess the objective is to see who can hold it longer. They seem to struggle, though they’re only 0.5 liter steins. I go inside and the atmosphere seems a little better.

I am with Brittney and by some pool. I’m not sure if it’s in ground or a small, natural pool. The water looks clear and inviting. I’m pretty sure it’s a natural pool, as I think the water is lapping up against sand.




I am outside somewhere that food is being served from a long table up against a wall. There is one in front of me, and he is getting the first large cut of a large slab of some kind of meat (it looks like the size of a small animal). I get the second slice, equally large. I put another large portion of something on my paper plate, making it just about full. I think I’ll have to come back later since I won’t have room for everything they have out on my plate.




I think I am going on a road trip or driving somewhere fairly far away.

I am with Melissa and some unfamiliar others in what seems like someone’s home. There is some event going on where we are being fed. There is a long table with toppings and ingredients for hot dogs. There are a couple of ladies seated behind the table, serving. This table seems to be in a slight alcove. I am up now and getting jalapenos on my bun. I then get a hot dog. There is a small thing of mayo that I’m going to spread on with a knife. I think the mustard is in a squeeze bottle (*I seem to wake up right at this point).

I am at the Alibi brewery with Melissa. It looks mostly different though - the bar area is smaller and seems shorter, with seating at the counter. It faces the chalkboard tap list and wraps around the end at a 90 degree angle, which is where we sit. It is not very crowded, but there is a fair amount of people, probably right before it gets busy. It is dim and laid back. Right away, a blond girl in her early 20s comes over to get our drink orders. Naturally, Melissa wants a water. She then looks to me, but I haven’t had enough time to choose a beer. I know there is one that I want, but I can’t think of the name. I say “uh…” while looking at the list, hoping she’ll help me out a little. Instead, she just says something like “wow, you do hate me/why do you hate me?” It could’ve been a playful joke, but with the way she said it, it came off as serious. She leaves and them comes back later for a food order. Melissa gets chicken strips. I’m still pretty turned off by the girl’s comment, so I don’t think I get anything, and she doesn’t seem to care anyway. Melissa now has her chicken strips, and they have brought me a beer. It’s only about ¼ full. I sip it, and it is the one I was thinking of (it tastes like some German style, maybe a doppelbock?) and tastes good. I just can’t really believe they served it that empty, so I snapchat it to Brittney. The bill is $40, $20 a person I figure. I want to tip her absolutely nothing, and I don’t think it would be unjustified. I consider writing her a note on the receipt as well.

I am at what looks like work, out on the floor and at a table (that is not really there) by the registers. There are a few different cakes that Mom has made sitting out. I think she’s sitting here too. I’m trying the cakes, and they are really good. Walking around now, I see only Beth ringing and what looks like a forming line. When I go to help, I see that the ‘line’ of people are still looking around. There is something about the Grateful Dead’s ‘worst’ show that happened to be played in Mexico. I think I am currently listening to it. It is very short. I think there are only six songs in the first set and one short song before drums in the second. I think there is a song with Bob and some female pop singer that really just doesn’t sound like them. Kat is here, and I tell her it is pretty terrible. Then I realize she was at the show and I don’t want to sound mean; I say it’s still fine because it’s the GD, but it is bad for their standards.

I am at some small event in some smaller event room. There are people from work here as well as Sage and maybe her boyfriend. I have come here with Makayla; I think it is somewhere in California. Makayla calls Mom to ask if we can stay here for dinner. I say, mostly to myself since she’s on the phone, that Mom could throw us a 20 and it would help. Mom says yes, inciting a subdued bout of excitement. I envision taking an Uber back just as a humorous scenario, mentally gawking at what it would cost if they even go that far. I am seated now, at the end of one of two tables that abuts the other. Against the wall and on smaller display tables are the beers on tap. Each actually looks like its own little machine - they range in appearance from slushee machines to small drink vending machines, etc, each with their own design for the beer within. Evelyn from work is looking at them all, very closely. I wasn’t going to go up and look at them alone, so I take this opportunity. There are some fairly good options, but nothing amazing. I think I see the Sierra Nevada Torpedo. I think there is a porter and a hefeweizen, the hefe in what looks like a pineapple yellow pina colada machine. I think its name is slightly off - actually Heineken or something? I think I decide to pass on it because it seems like a bad imitation of the style. I think I end up with a glass of the Torpedo. I’m now seated again, across from Sage and maybe her boyfriend. The apparent host, a petite, bald, bespectacled man wearing a white apron around his waist, is coming around and jovially making sure everything and everyone is okay. Everyone seems to be uplifted by this quaint man’s demeanor. He takes Sage’s order, which is ‘spare pork’. I now see a plate of it in front of her, three or four generously sized slices of pork. He looks at me now, and I want the same thing, but ‘spare pork’ sounds wrong, so I say instead ‘the same thing’. I notice my drink is a few sips away from being empty. I want to order another while I have the service available, but I also don’t want to ask for more while I still have some.




I am working a wedding. I am standing outside and near the entrance gate to what seems to be a large, upscale country club. Everything seems spread out, showcasing the grassy, and in places marshy, land. It seems like a pleasant day. I am holding a fairly big gift bag - it is for the couple whom I just saw but now cannot find. I feel sort of out of place. I want to get this gift to them, but guests keep showing up, expecting me to direct them. A lifted, impossibly white truck approaches; the driver is impeccably clean cut and dressed in an effortlessly classy and flattering suit. Through his open window, he tells me that he likes my shoes. They are my new ones (that I bought at work). I’m also wearing dress pants and a tucked dress shirt. He now asks me where the ‘halfway point’ is, and I hesitate. He asks again, kind of snootily, as if I should know right away. It makes me feel kind of stupid. I then recall an image of a white line on some asphalt, so I tell the man to continue on and he will see the halfway point marked with a white line, gesturing with my hands. To my left, I see the asphalt walkway meandering through and then becoming obscured by some tall grasses. I see men in suits walking with girls in dresses, all pastel colors, and it is idyllic. I now start walking, but I am not on any walkway. The ground is marshy; my feet start to sink enough to get the tops of my shoes wet. Beth has apparently been watching me and asks what I’m doing. I inwardly agree with her sentiment and start to come back. I still want to give them this gift though, so I start again, though this time I seem to be holding onto some kind of ledge and traversing with my feet also on some small lip of something more solid than the marsh. It all seems cramped and small and obscured by the foliage. *It is as I’m doing this that I hear my alarm go off.




Mom is in my room and has apparently been going through my stuff, as she is holding up what’s left of a joint in a plastic bag that was hidden in my laundry basket. She seems really upset, mad, or disappointed. I’m not sure why; it’s really not that big of a deal to me. She’s also holding some new clothes she got for me. There are some tank tops on hangers and some red and blue underwear that look more like Speedos. I take them and hang them in the closet; they are a tight fit. I think I’m getting ready to go to class or work.




I am in the bathroom with Melissa. I am naked at least from the waist down, and using some hair removal cream? on my pubic region. For whatever reason, I start rubbing it on my lower legs, until it starts to feel like there’s less hair (I didn’t intend to remove the hair on my legs). I tell Melissa I just accidentally removed all my leg hair and she doesn’t believe me. I rub my legs, feeling only skin and stubble.

I am walking up to a restaurant with Mom and Makayla. It is dim or dark outside. I think this place is Italian. We’re greeted by a hostess at a table on a little covered section outside the place. She seems sort of somber and then ends up telling Mom something like ‘sorry about Catholic Charities’. I think she is going to relay to the manager that we’re here. We walk in, passing all the tables, and end up in a large back room. It seems like it’s more for staff. There are a few giant pizzas and large portions of side dishes set out on table clothed tables. Some employees are casually coming and going while we’re in here, so casual that I hear one cuss. I now grab some food. I go back for some mac ‘n’ cheese, the underside of which is badly burnt, a black crisp. I think it still tastes fine. There is a subdued sense of excitement that this is going to be comped because they actually care what happened with Catholic Charities.

I’m in some fairly upscale restaurant with Mom. it sort of looks like the Atlantis buffet. We walk up to a counter. There’s a server, white, probably late 20’s, in all white, a chef’s hat too, I think, what comes up to greet us. Mom says something about a drink - beer or wine?- and I get concerned for a second. She specifies to him “Clausthaler”, and he pours one. There is also dessert - I think for us. The man is putting pieces of cake on separate plates, focusing on an appealing display.

I am in a house (unfamiliar, I think). Paranormal things keep happening, such as some invisible force moving things and/or touching me. It feels very real, though I’m not sure if anyone else is seeing it.




I am going to an event for/at the preschool. Some others filter in along with me, some familiar. I recognize kids and parents. Inside, there are quite a few people here. It looks like an elementary school. There’s the cafeteria we’re in, the doorway we came in and one directly opposite it, and one hallway off to the left. All in all, it’s pretty small. I see Mom here, talking to a few, and she is in what looks like a stroller. (I think this is due to a disability, but I very much take it for granted in the dream). She spots me also, but is waiting to come over to me. I am overhearing talk of the disarray that Catholic Charities is still in. Tim Mills is here too; we pat a hand on each other’s shoulders in greeting. Surveying the tables, I see everyone already has food, mostly cheeseburgers. This makes me realize that I’m pretty hungry. I wish I would’ve ordered one, thinking that it is probably too late to do so now, that they’re done making them for the evening. Now I am sitting by Nelson and his dad. His dad is combing Nelson’s hair, which looks slightly longer and thinner and almost a translucent, fluorescent white-blond. He’ combing it into almost a Trump-do. Nelson sits placidly. Dan is talking to me about haircuts, but I’m finding it difficult to hear. My responses at times are nonsensical because I can’t hear and don’t want to ask for a repetition. They start leaving, and I follow suit. We leave through what very much looks like a house’s garage (the two getting into a black truck/SUV parked within). Melissa’s car is a few feet to the right, perpendicularly in the street. She’s sitting inside, on her phone. I go up to open window and am going to say something, in a humorous tone, about her moving, but before I can she says she already knows she’s in the street. Dan apparently didn’t think she was in the way, as he’s already backing out, pretty quickly. I ask Melissa if she wants to hang out now or not. She says she doesn’t care and that it’s up to me, to which I say the same exact thing. We end up going home (to Mom’s?).

I am walking along a fairly busy sidewalk when a larger black man wearing grey sweatpants and a darker sweatshirt starts to come up to me, asking for spare change. I sort of feel like I have to oblige, but instead of giving him some, I ask if he’s hungry and tell him to come with me. I kind of get the impression that he just wanted the money instead. He seems quiet and despondent. I ask what he’s hungry for, and he mutters ‘chicken’. I start to go to a McDonald’s because I know there’s one close. When we get there, he gravitates towards a black lady about his age (late 30s?) who also appears homeless. They start talking, and I’m pretty sure I leave because he’s no longer paying attention to me.




I am parking in what looks like the Beer Nv parking lot. I back into one of the staggered spaces, noticing a truck in one of the spaces behind me taking up almost most of its space. When I get out, I see a thin layer of snow or frost and also that I’ve backed in perfectly. I can see that the car is equidistant from each side, as well as the front and back. I see a woman walking around, tapping kind of forcefully on cars. She is checking them for something as if she’s some kind of authority. There are others here; they comment on her lack of uniform or identification. The communal fervor bolsters assurance, but a sense of just what to do about it is still lacking. I am now sitting in my car, and she’s trying to talk to me through the closed window. I ask her for identification and she ignores it. I think she’s slightly irked that I leave my window up but knows she can’t do anything about it. I think she’s wearing black cargo pants and a dark/black sweatshirt. I simply press my license up to the window. There are some papers on the passenger seat, receipts and other car care records. One of them is a receipt for gas I just got; I press it up to the window facetiously.

I am driving on a wide road that feels sort of residential. I don’t see any houses, but there are some buildings a ways back from the road. It’s raining and, judging by the puddles all around, was raining a lot harder. I round a corner with enough speed for my tire to throw water from a puddle onto a girl on the walkway by the road. The girl looks early 20s and Hispanic. She has her hood up and is carrying something with both arms. Her face is shocked and saddened. I keep driving, as I did not intend to do that, but I look in my rear view and see her still standing there, staring at me driving away. I feel really poorly and I also see the beach towel on the passenger’s side floor (the blue one that really is in my car right now), so I stop and start to reverse. The girl sees me backing up and starts to run away. I keep reversing, then stop and get out, holding up the towel. She sees it and stops and then runs to me. Her appearance is completely different; she is a really tall white girl (same age range) with dirty blond hair cut in a straight line at the bottom of her long neck. She’s wearing a slightly alternative style - flared and slightly flowing black pants, and earthy green tank top, and I think a brown vest and maybe some jewelry. There are two barbell style piercings on the vest with only the silver bead showing. The vest is worn more so around them. The first thing she does is come in for a hug. I lightly hug her with the towel. When we pull away, I see that it looks like she is about to cry. I also can smell a perfume musk and her neutral breath. I tell her that I’m really sorry and that I didn’t mean to and that I feel really bad. She tells me it’s okay. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and have to hold them back.




I am in some house, but it feels like I am working here. People come up and ask where things are and I show or tell them. The house seems small, with a low ceiling and narrow hallways with sharp turns. It seems to be unfurnished except for a few rooms. An older couple wants to know where the DVDs are, so I have them follow me. I accidentally take them to a small bathroom that seems to be at the end of a little alcove in the wall. There is a shelf in here, but no DVDs. I tell them oops, this isn’t it, I overshot it, and have them follow me to the right spot. This correct spot is a covered porch outside. It may be more of a gazebo, but it seems too close and connected to the house. Surrounding greenery compliments the wicker and woven white. The shelf of DVDs is out here. Someone is lying on their back on a lounge couch/chair with their eyes closed and a large pillow over them. Someone starts to move the pillow. The pillow is mostly concealing the body, so I think they may not even see her, but I do tell her to stop, there’s someone under there. Her eyes stay closed; I think she may be asleep or meditating.




I have gone into Discology. The building is completely different, and there are no records here. It’s still a one room shop, and there’s a large counter along one wall. (It vaguely reminds me of a dispensary?) The lighting is dim, and there are tall black shelves. It seems tidy. I think there are antiques, rocks, minerals, etc. I am walking out, but catch a glimpse of David behind the counter and feel bad about leaving without saying anything to him, so I go back in. There’s a tall black shelf to the left of the door, and on it is a geode that I start looking at. It’s probably about two feet long and one foot high, and the front is completely flat and glossy. It’s a shiny but natural red. There are veins along the top and bottom that are darker and denser than the rest of it. David seems quiet and kind of unfriendly. I have to say hi, but he says hi back nicely enough.




I am with Sage, and we are going to hike Mt. Rose. I pull into a pretty full parking lot as it is still dark out. There are a lot of people out, all starting to hike. (This place is not the Mt. Rose area or trail; it reminds me of Rancho San Rafael and the hot air balloons). The main trail is through some tan grasses right off the road going uphill. Other trails branch off, but go in the same general direction. There are people on all of them. Sage says something about high ground or staying high. I think we both have backpacks on, but I have little to no water and no food. I tell Sage I have no food and ask if she brought any. I’m worried about possibly getting faint. She says she didn’t bring any but that it’s okay because we won’t be going to the summit. She tells me she can’t go that far anyway, and I remember that she can’t. I think I took it slightly for granted that one would be able to go that far. I think we might just go to the look out, but think that’s pretty far too. We end up only going a little ways before we turn around. The weather seems very mild, maybe even spring or summer.




(Since I’m with Sage, this may be part of the last dream?) Sage and I are on a school bus. I’m thinking we’re going to get off now, but the bus turns around so that its door lines up with the door on another school bus. Both doors are opened so as to create a passage from one bus to the other. People from this bus start getting onto the other this way. Sage and I do the same. I think I’ll just have to get off at this bus’s first stop. It’s a tight fit somehow between the two buses; I sort of have to squeeze through. This bus is crowded and small. It is Alice-in-Wonderlandesque, in that it looked normal size from outside, yet tiny inside, even though the people look regularly sized. Sage is at an aisle seat only a row or two back. I can’t see an empty spot except for the first row to the right with a guy in it. I take it. I am scrunched up, and my legs take up most of the aisle, but I guess it’ll have to work. I watch the lady bus driver survey the bus and its passengers through the rear view mirror with that look that all bus drivers seem to have. I think she’s wearing a hoodie, pulled back brown hair, and dark sunglasses.




I am at Lily’s mom’s house. Dad is with me, and I think we’ve been out doing something. She looks mostly different (almost like a conglomerate of Susan and Carol, now that I think of it), with medium length blond hair. She lounges on the couch as I notice a Virtual Reality device on her head. (It looks like the picture on the box of the one at JCPenney). The black strap is at an angle like that of an eye patch, causing the device to sit on her left temple. The whole thing is very casual, almost as if it were a hat or a cellphone in a pocket. I can hear it nonchalantly talking to her. She’s talking to us and only occasionally gets distracted by the device. At its reminder, she gets up to write something on a calendar. I go with her. After she’s done writing, she tells me to sit, make myself at home. She asks if I want tea; it sounds good, though I’m not sure I say yes. I think there are spring rolls or potstickers set out on the small counter.




I am with Melissa for some Girl Scout? event. It is outside, though one section seems to be partially ‘inside’ a covering or awning. I get into a line for food that’s set out on long cafeteria style tables. The plates of food are very small and have sections like frozen food trays. I think there’s chili and rice (and something that looks like the seafood antipasto from last night). I serve myself a small portion and sit with some unfamiliar but nice seeming people. At one point, I went up to Melissa and another lady in another line. They both have wet but empty shot glasses. I see a menu advertising $2 drinks and think that must be what that is. She offers for me to smell the glass; it smells pretty good, and I can tell that it was a vodka drink. I’ve already been drinking something, otherwise I’d probably try one.




(This feels like it could’ve been at the end of the last dream). I enter a dark bathroom and go to turn the light on, but the switch does not work. I quickly try it a few times more before the realization hits me: I am in a dream. I look into the mirror and at my reflection as the thought is going through my mind that I am dreaming. Instantaneously, I hear screaming and/or another loud noise and watch as my reflection fades away into darkness.




I am coughing up copious amount of phlegm, thick and brownish, into a white sink. (*This felt quite realistic. Shortly before bed last night I had to spit into the sink).




I am in bed with Melissa. She is naked, and I think I am too. I seem to have my body positioned correctly on the bed, while her head is towards the other side. I am touching her. At some point, I realize there are two of her, like a corporeal reflection (the axis of symmetry possibly my body). They are exactly the same, though I can just tell the one on the left is the reflected version. The two bodies come closer together, closer still, until their exposed clitorises are touching. When they do, I can sense and feel the sensual and sexual ecstasy and pleasure

I am staying with Melissa at her house (though it looks different). I’m going to be sleeping on the floor right next to her bed. I am upstairs, while she is downstairs. Throughout the night, I wake up a few times with a disconcerting feeling. When I wake one of the times, I discover that I’ve broken her glasses. I have no memory of doing so, but I know it must’ve been me. One lens is out of the frame and cracked. I notice that the other lens is also heavily cracked, which I hadn’t noticed before. I wonder if she’s been wearing them like this. It still saddens me to think of accidentally breaking them, and think about buying her a new pair. I also remember her other pair. I look up now and see her in this dim room. Comforted by her presence, I hug her. I relay to her the disconcerting feelings.



I’m with Melissa at some food place. We get to the counter and look up at their large menu. It seems to be Mexican food. Melissa orders a few tacos, then I step up to order. I ask the guy for a certain taco, but he says he only has a steak one. I can see the taco I want on the menu, but I don’t care too much, telling him that’s fine. I also add a burrito. He gives me a little container of red hot sauce. He also grabs a bottle of a more orange looking hot sauce. He squirts some towards me, most hitting the counter, but some landing on the floor between my feet and a little bit on my shorts. He seems nonchalant but also like he’s getting a kick out of it. I’m not exactly mad, just a little put off that it got on my shorts.



I am in a parking lot, where Mom has gotten into a verbal fight with Ashley (from the preschool, the one Melissa also worked with). They are yelling at each other, over something unknown, as I reach out to hug Mom and then attempt to do the same to Ashley. She doesn’t let me, so I desist. I then contemplate taking Mom’s side and fighting back. I go over to her silver SUV and tap it a few times with my fist. There is an unstated knowing in her hesitation as I walked over to it that I had intent to damage it.



I am driving up a narrow and winding road on a hill and through a small neighborhood (pretty much a house on each side of the road, i.e. no more than two deep). I’m calling it Stead, even though it looks nothing like it. I hear Dad on the phone with Matt. Dad is declining going to a party tonight - “we’re party people, but just not tonight, period.”