• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    rshort1202

    1. Thursday, July 2

      by , 07-04-2020 at 11:44 PM
      I am working outside at Grassroots. The space doesnít actually look like what we have; itís more of an open dirt space with some tables, tents, and boxes, and I donít see the store in the background. Iím sitting under a smaller shade tent, making a card. I mustíve put glue on the front, because Iíve poured quite a bit of sprinkles (pinks, whites, and purples) on and am shaking it slightly so theyíll settle and coat the front. Before I can finish, Ben comes over and asks if I want to learn Ďthe fireí. I say yes, setting the card down and getting up to follow him. Heís not wearing a mask, so I am able to see his face. Thereís a fairly large fire pit with a stainless steel ring around it that they use to do some kind of work. Iím not sure weíve 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 thereís probably ten to twelve of us. I notice the different extents of mask wearing. Most donít 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 sheís wearing a thin, light blue bandanna over just her nose. Iím not sure how this is even done; there seems to be a twist in it - itís coming from the side - that allows it to barely hang on. Iím thinking that it makes no sense and is bold for her. She happily tells me not to worry, that I Ďwonít be getting her air.í Iím not sure.




      Iím approaching what seems to be a very hipster restaurant. It looks like Midtown, and I think Iím with two others (not sure who). Thereís 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. Thereís a Ďdogí (hot dog?) something for $20. At the top of the menu, it says something to the effect of: If something doesnít come with a side, weíll 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. Iím 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 theyíre from California (they look extremely average, though). Thereís a blond guy sitting alone further down this long bench. He is small but buff. Heís wearing jeans or overalls and a tight shirt. I think heís talking on the phone and he sounds absolutely vapid. For some reason, I think heís Ďtypical Reno.í




      Iím in a large, opulent house on a hill where I know Jim, Rhianna, and Ella are staying (I donít think I ever think of John - itís almost like before he was born?). Thereís something about a storm heading this way, over the nearby ocean. Iím 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.




      Iím with Melissa, and weíve ended up at Dadís house. This house is actually very large and opulent. I think weíre 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 didnít know he was here.
    2. Thursday, May 28

      by , 06-07-2020 at 05:32 AM
      I am outside somewhere - it feels like an outdoor shopping mall or a boardwalk. Iím walking to a restaurant when I see Alex and Daylen. They walk over and we talk for a bit. I go into the restaurant now, more of a counter service place (maybe a MyPie?). It seems dim and there is a long, double backed line of people, spaced apart by pieces of large white tape on the grey polished concrete floor. I notice that everyone in here is around 16-18 and immediately feel out of place. Despite their age, I can tell they are from this certain generation by the way theyíre dressed and talking (*This reminds me of the barista last night that I thought was a pretty stereotypical example of the younger-than-me generation).




      It seems really early in the morning (dawn or just before), and Iím walking up to some chain food place. I order two black hot coffees, just assuming Brittney is coming to meet me. When I text her, she says sheís already getting coffee somewhere. I finish mine, which actually has milk/flavor, and start on the other. The coffee is good for a place that doesnít specialize in coffee.
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    3. Saturday, March 28

      by , 03-31-2020 at 04:58 AM
      I am somewhere outside? with Melissa, Pepe, and his mom. I think they both look high and then, sure enough, she lets on that they are. She confides in us that Caesar is the head of some pot farm/ selling ring or something similar. I can see it, imagining him and his boisterous personality right now. Now, I am climbing up through some tall and thin wooden structure. I pass through Ďfloorsí that are spaces barely bigger than my body. Each side of the space, I think even including the top, is a mirror, making for a trippy experience. I now get to what seems to be the top. It is different because the sides are concave, joining in a small ceiling, and it seems thereís nowhere left to go. I donít accept this possibility though, and push on one of the sides. It opens and reveals a vast, dim space that I think may be the pot farm.




      I am in New York City with Melissa, walking along a sidewalk. The street is busy and I can smell and taste the putrid emissions from passing trucks. The sidewalk is close enough to the street, but it thins even further at one point, leaving hardly any space for foot traffic. We pass a tower with a parabolically curved glass facade. The glass is mostly translucent, but it gets much dimmer higher up. There is a space behind the glass, in which there are large advertisements. Melissa says something about how they wonít even be visible. I agree. We end up in a restaurant that seems familiar (from another dream, I think). I notice a couple about our age in the booth behind us, across from me. They are dressed pretty nice for this place and sitting on the same side. I think about their life. I notice a man in sunglasses sitting alone at a booth diagonal from us. Melissa asks to trade sides, and we do. I look through the fairly short menu and decide I want pretty much the first thing on it, some corn dog things. The waitress, brunette and maybe 30+, comes over and seems out of it, like drunk or sad or something. She gives us a minute. I look at the extensive beer list in the back. Theyíre sorted by brewery (they must all be local - I donít recognize any), under the breweryís logo. The price per beer is then listed after the name, lowest to highest, separated by slashes. Most of the first prices are six to seven dollars, but I see prices like 9,16, 27, 59, etc. I think these prices must be for bottles and/or pitchers but that theyíre still ridiculous. I guess thatís just how it is in the city. Nothing sounds too good anyway, so I figure Iíll settle for a slightly cheaper bill. The waitress returns and sits by me, putting her hand on my shoulder. It could be a nice gesture, but with how she is slightly rubbing her hand it is taken a little too far. She takes Melissaís order and then mine. I say ĎI just found something, where did it go?í, trying to find it again. I find it and tell her while also pointing. She doesnít say much. She comes back and sits again. This time she reaches over and grabs my crotch. I am a little shocked and put my own hand over it. When I move my hand, she does it again and then leaves. I text or tell Melissa and she just shrugs it off. I want to tell her what kind of reaction there would be if the genders were switched.
    4. Monday, March 4

      by , 03-12-2019 at 03:18 AM
      I am working at Sherwin Williams. I think I have come back for just today. I think Iím going to just work today and use all my old info to clock in, etc, as if thatíll actually work. Iím thinking that the people still working here will remember me and remember that I left. I am in a sort of goofy, detached mood that has to do with me being back in a place that I willingly left. This place definitely doesnít look like SW, but more like a movie theater or something similar. Everyone is gathering in a dim room with a stage or some other platform and fairly steep, tiered, red seats. Melissaís dad is giving a speech or talking to everyone. I am walking in with Nathaniel Fuller? (He appears to be as he was when I knew him). He is in the lead and takes an aisle seat in the front row. Iím not sure whether Iím sitting with him or not, so I survey the seating. Thereís an empty row, but Iím not sure if itíd be weird if I sat alone or not. I end up taking the seat between him and another (familiar?) guy. The seat seems small and I feel squished between the two. Now, (or maybe it was earlier?) I am walking around here. Thereís a long hallway area and different inlets. I enter one and am in a grocery store. I felt like I was going to get lost or end up somewhere and not really know how to get back, and now it has happened. I see a chubby guy with shaggy hair and scruff pushing a shopping cart. It is full of liters of light colored soda. I think I try to find my way back. I am with Melissa and Brooke now, outside and by some small, enclosed ticket taking booth inside which sits a middle aged woman. We have some receipt (from Sherwin Williams?) that weíre trying to use to go to the restaurant or food place that the tickets are for. We donít have the actual ticket, but Iím thinking that this receipt will show that we have permission. I could see where the lady would think weíre being fraudulent, but weíre not. When she talks to us, Brookeís replies are kind of snarky, even though this lady let us through. Sheís actually been pretty nice, and probably doesnít care if we do get to go.




      I am in the living room at Dadís. From my perspective, it looks like I could have just come in from the garage. Iíve walked into a scene of two police officers sitting on the floor and a large group of people standing around them. Dad may be here too, and I think the officers may be in plainclothes. They tell me they are here because of my social media rends/tendencies. I feel a pang of guilt in my stomach that is only amplified by the disappointed looks on every face. I am thinking that theyíve found me out and thereís nothing to do about it but accept it. I am slightly relieved when they tell me that they canít do anything about it legally, But then I think that means the FBI has to get involved.
    5. Saturday, February 23

      by , 02-24-2019 at 12:15 AM
      I am in a restaurant with Melissa and I think some others. It seems fairly crowded and a tiny bit cramped. Melissa asks me something like Ďis that her?í, referencing a girl at the table across from us. The table is against the wood paneled wall and full with at least four people. I think Melissa is asking if itís Reilly. The table is slightly behind me, so I have to covertly turn my head to get a glance. The girl looks fairly similar to Reilly, but seems thicker, more made up, with curlier hair. The group seems to find something funny or amusing; it seems like they are quietly laughing. They also seem to be looking over here, possibly what is causing the giggling. I now get up to go use the bathroom and to get a better look on my way. In the bathroom, I start using the urinal, which is short, low to the ground, and a stainless steel trough style.
    6. Saturday, February 9

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:38 AM
      I am walking up to a restaurant with Mom and Makayla. It is dim or dark outside. I think this place is Italian. Weíre 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 Ďsorry about Catholic Charitiesí. I think she is going to relay to the manager that weíre here. We walk in, passing all the tables, and end up in a large back room. It seems like itís 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 weíre in here, so casual that I hear one cuss. I now grab some food. I go back for some mac Ďní 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.
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    7. Friday, February 8

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:37 AM
      Iím in some fairly upscale restaurant with Mom. it sort of looks like the Atlantis buffet. We walk up to a counter. Thereís a server, white, probably late 20ís, in all white, a chefís 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 ďClausthalerĒ, 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.
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    8. Thursday, September 6

      by , 12-29-2018 at 02:41 AM
      I am in a restaurant with Melissa. The restaurant seems to have some self-service element to it, or at least some food on counters behind glass. After weíve been seated for a little bit, we get up to get some food. There are a couple 20-something girls working behind the counter; I ask one for some of a salad. They say something about it being really spicy, as if I canít handle it. I think they may not be giving it to me because of this, but I tell them I can handle it even spicier or something similar. This evidently causes some animosity, but I think they give me some. I notice that they all have darker skin, and Iím not sure if it has anything to do with the way theyíre treating me (Iím tempted to think itís because Iím white). When we go back again, we still get poor service, seemingly deliberately. There is one girl in particular (with darker skin and darker, bushy hair) who is blatantly ignoring us. I think we try to say something and another girl (white, with blond hair) defends her. I donít know what weíve done wrong. This is enough now to cause this girl to start ranting at us. She starts going off, and things keep escalating until she is out here by us, tirading. I have some dish of food that I end up setting down so I can record her with my phone. I think she almost kicks the food over. Iím not even upset, just in disbelief at how unwarranted her behavior is. After itís over, I go back to the counter to file a complaint. I tell one of the girls that I get it, Iíve worked in food service, but there is absolutely no reason she shouldíve done that to a customer. Oddly, they happily oblige and hand me a form. I start writing, detailing everything, and it becomes quite long. I run out of space on the thick, brown paper that looks more like a menu and end up writing on a table?