• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




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    rshort1202

    1. 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.
    2. 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.
    3. 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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    4. 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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    5. 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?