• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    rshort1202

    1. Friday, March 22

      by , 03-27-2019 at 06:16 PM
      I am with Melissa, Dad, and Scottie. Iím pretty sure weíre going somewhere, but right now, we are sitting at a picnic style table right adjacent to a street intersection. Dad has a store bought card for Scottie, and I have made a card for Melissa. It is smaller and looks like a regular card except for its left side being the shape of half of a heart. Itís come out wrong though - it opens upside down or something like that. Scottie comments nicely on our bringing cards. I notice she is wearing a light lime green hoodie. The front is full of a list of Ďantií somethings in a white and all caps font; I notice ĎANTITRUMPí towards the bottom and the hoodieís pocket. I think about how supporters would take offense to this, yet nonchalantly be Ďantií many things. Iím now walking along a sidewalk, I think with just Dad and Melissa or Dad and Makayla. This neighborhood is not too far off the main road, yet it still feels removed. It feels like midtown/oldtown. The houses are smaller (some are two stories though, I think) and close to this street and to each other. The look somewhat whimsical. I notice an address in number plaques on the houseís wall - 5150 or something like that. I either think or say that I like this neighborhood. We now end up at the bottom of a long hill with a place sprawled across it. The long house/building atop is an off white. There are tall and droopy trees and an older cement pathway winding up the hill. There is a black man sitting outside somewhere here, rambling about something. I notice a few chains with hooks on their ends hanging down from something (the trees probably?). I know that theyíre for musicians to attach to when they play. I think I get an image of that scene in my head. I think they swing on them. In fact, the man starts rambling about this. I grab onto one as I ascend this hill and let it go when I reach the top. It mustíve shortened or something, as it doesnít swing back and hit me. I imagine what itíd be like or feel like if it did. There are circular patio tables and their steels chairs placed all around. The rest of it seems to be a pretty empty cement plaza. I think this place is called The Project, and I remember coming here a while ago and liking it. I am now by another house. This house also has a large grassy area and patio tables. There is an absolute plethora of tables though - I canít even imagine that many people being here at once. I enter the house, following Lindsey. There is a long closet on the entrywayís left. It is open or partially open, allowing me to see a row of hanging coats. There is a grey and a green one; the rest look like duplicates of either, possibly just in another size. I wonder why. Lindsey sees me looking, and it is slightly awkward for a moment. Weíre back outside now, in the back or side yard. I think I comment on all the tables. It sort of reminds me of an Alice in Wonderland type garden party. She and I each drag a chair a ways out onto the vast and lush lawn. She sits and is going to trim her pubic hair, I think with scissors. I think sheís wearing a skirt that she can lift high enough. I can see the very tops of her thighs, but not much else. She asks me to go get/do something, trying to get me to leave so she can be alone. I know what sheís doing, but oblige anyway by joining a blond kid that is running around. He starts to race, and I find myself unable to run as fast as him. I think it must be because Iím not even trying my hardest. I see the Dots game (that Iíve been playing on my phone) is being played in the distance, like itís projected onto the sky or something. It seems like dusk or twilight.




      I am in what looks like a cross between a warehouse and Winco aisle. I am with some others that I think are movie characters but that I know? We are slowly making our way down the aisle, punching packages of soda cans as we go. I punch one repeatedly and it will not break open, so I take out my pocket knife and dramatically slit the wrapping open. One of the guys is by me when I do so and for some reason derives great joy from it. It is somehow like an idyllic scene from a movie. I remark that 80s movies are really good, that 90s movies are okay too, but not as good. It feels like I/we have just been in a few 80s movies. These others agree with my sentiment. We are now further into this building and sitting around a square and fairly tall table. Two of the others are Ashley M from work and McKenzie Retzer. McKenzie is in very small shorts and a tank top. She is sweaty and lifting her arms to check for a pattern/ring of deodorant stain. She has some specific term for it. I can feel sweat all over my body as well, and I check for the same. I think I do have it but canít see it. Ashley, what is to my right, gives me two barbell weights. I sort of fuck around with them and then start lifting one straight away from my body on my right. She tells me my arms are strong. I am conscious/self conscious of being observed (by her and myself). I say that they used to be, which she repeats sarcastically/rhetorically. McKenzie tells me Iím scheduled for another workout next Saturday. I tell her Iím glad she signs me up for things or else Iíd never do anything.