rshort1202

I am at work. Nicola is here and showing me how to do something. First, we have to take a picture of ourself, looking up through some contraption that looks like a toilet. The camera we use is like the kind my family had when I was a kid. I play around with it and reminisce, since it’s been a while since I’ve seen one of these. She goes first, arranging her skirt? so as not to reveal herself, even though I somewhat pointedly look away. I go next, sitting on the seat, extending my arm down to hold the camera facing up at the bottom of the tube, and snap the picture. Looking at it on the screen, it’s very unflattering. The background is dim and grainy, yet my face is bright and making an uncomfortable looking expression.

I am inside somewhere. I am in some area that is either a hallway or a long bathroom. There is a stall with quite a large gap between the floor and the wall. My coworker and I are taking the toilet out and installing one that has some hidden mirror. This coworker (unfamiliar) sits on it while I stand outside of the stall to see how it looks. The toilet just seems like it’s highly reflective stainless steel. I can clearly see his pale thighs but not much else. I go in and reposition it to where I think it’ll offer a better view. I think our office must be right outside this stall. Now someone, he almost seems like a school’s principal, has caught us. We are made to put it all back (we moved a few other things), and all I can feel is shame. I then begin to think that he didn’t actually know our motive but just thought that we were messing around, which offers me a bit of relief. Now I’m in some room, by some filing cabinets?, with this coworker, noticing his short, red hair. He is friendly and talkative and starts talking about Scott. I contribute to the conversation and add that Scott was a great boss. Now I’m working and/or browsing in a plain white, dim room. There are some black milk crates of music on various media. I find a copy of the Tool album Salival on a VHS that is still in the shrink wrap. I then find that the bottom is open but that you can slide it back in if you’re careful. I think that this is rare and that I have to get it since it’s only a few dollars. I think I don’t have anywhere to play it but that it’s probably a collectible or a good return on investment if I were to sell it. I find a few cassettes? and then walk up to the counter to check out with Julia. The counter seems to stand alone outside in this pretty barren landscape. She looks at the items and says I can just take them because she overcharged me last time. Excited at this, I say thanks and walk off. I get the sense that I’ll be walking home.

I am walking through what looks like Dad’s neighborhood (maybe on one of the higher streets, like Virginia Foothills). I run into Kat and she ends up walking with me. It is near sunset and some of the lower and plumper clouds are getting some color. The rest are smaller and almost evenly spaced, bright white against the blue. I look directly up and notice a glowing sliver of the moon. It’s all very pretty. Kat mentions the sky too, saying she’s grateful for Emma for getting her to pay more attention to it, and that she wants to see it more often. I take some pictures of it as we walk. We end up at her house. I think the garage door is open, and I can tell by the way she’s talking that she has intentions to leave now. Before she does, I somewhat bluntly mention how I want to stop drinking. This seems to pique her interest, and she talks to me about it. I tell her I feel like quitting altogether but am not sure if I should stick with moderation. She pulls a little red champagne flute from somewhere and hands it to me, saying I could use it for moderation. I look at it and its almost grimy looking opaque sides, imagining how it might hold a small serving. I kind of like the idea and think I might take it, but then change my mind. I say that I want it to be a mindset thing and not something like this. Now, Chelsea has shown up, I think in a car. She stands behind us and when she sees me she recognizes me but thinks I’m someone else. I tell her no and think it slightly odd that she wouldn’t remember me. I am now walking back, now either on a dirt road or a road surrounded by dirt and small hills. There’s a small stream of water running down this slope, through the soil and grasses. I follow it and see where it meets another stream on an opposing slope, turning to one and running downwards. I look out to my left and notice a hill where water appears to be coming from. There’s a tiny canyon carved into the soft looking dark brown soil, and I imagine walking through it. I am walking right by where the streams meet, doing okay with stepping on the sturdier patches of soil and grasses. Most of it is still soft and it’s hard to tell what will give, so I end up getting both of my shoes wet and muddy. I end up back home, rinsing and scrubbing them. I put them out to dry even though it’s pretty overcast.




I’ve gotten an email from the new girl at work (it’s not actually the girl who is supposed to start. I think I see a profile picture on the email or something and it’s an unfamiliar heavyset white girl). She’s asking about me not being there for a shift, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t been scheduled. I think I’ve been using time off. She sounds more like a manager than a coworker and kind of annoying. After the text there are a few pictures of a hotel room - I think it must be a work thing. The hotel seems nice and also very familiar. I think I must have stayed there before. I think it looks more impressive than it actually is. A picture of the shower shows the floor of small, dark pebbles and the opposing stainless steel shower heads. Now, I am in the hotel. It looks like someone had just been here but tidied a bit before leaving, so I guess I just missed her. There’s a full looking black garbage bag in the abnormally large space adjacent to the toilet. The toilet itself actually has a garbage bag around it, somehow from the ground up. I adjust the opening of the bag so as to be able to use the toilet.




I am somewhere with the family. We’re in a plain, rectangular building that is for something like customs or passports or photos (something that we have to do together as a family). I notice quite a few other families here too, I think seated at tables. Whatever we’re doing here, the personale is being very aggressive with us. They are making us do tasks or challenges that seemed to be designed to result only in failure. A younger guy, I think in a uniform, tries to handcuff me but only gets one finger. He notices, his facial expression betraying his embarrassment, and tries again. The same happens, though he doesn’t notice this time. He tells me to now “clap above your head and find some shade.” I think he also holds me down to ensure failure. Still, I succeed in clapping above my head, slightly satisfied with defying his expectation of failure. I’m not sure about the shade part though. These things go on for a while longer. When we are done, I’m thinking about how I’m going to write to someone about how atrociously we were treated.




From a third person perspective I am seeing a high rise building (a hotel) that stands alone on a sprawling fine sand beach. The building seems somewhat modern and is mostly a tower but with some structural embellishments at the base. It is also way too near the water and, in fact, there is currently water submerging the first few floors. I think there’s something about the occupants just staying inside when it floods, though that seems counter intuitive. Someone is interviewing a lone, blond man maybe in his late 20s. He seems foreign, probably European, though he is speaking more articulately than most native speakers. I think he’s talking about the structural design and why it is flooding.

I am entering a public bathroom. It is made of what looks like tan stone and is very large. I believe it’s a men’s bathroom, as that’s why I entered it and I do see urinals. There is a row of toilets, pretty close together, with no stalls around them. There are two girls sitting, right next to each other, apparently sensing no lack of privacy. I can see down into the water in the bowl and it looks very dark and murky. Now, I am looking for a shooter? I think someone has sent me to do this. I am looking in a pretty large playground. I am now inside somewhere and I think I see him and/or he sees me. There may be some interaction even, but he doesn’t know my intent. We are now on some sort of small section of tiered seating, him directly in front of me. I grab his arms and twist them behind his back, holding tight so he cannot move. I notice that I’m wearing a tie dye Grateful Dead shirt and that a Slipknot song is playing. I wonder if it’s his music and about the dynamic between it and him being a shooter.

I am in some kind of bathroom or shower room. There are two larger stalls, I think with a toilet and shower head (just on the wall, a drain for the runoff) in each, that are laid out as inverses of each other. There is some girl in the other one. I think that we have been assigned to these at the same time based on us being opposite gender or something to do with our siblings? I am sitting on the toilet in here and can see her showering through the gaps in the stall walls. Her back is facing me, but the side of a breast could still be revealed in a slight turn of her body. I’m more worried about her seeing me though, as I think there’s a mirror in which she could do so. I move my body a bit to where I can no longer see her. Now, I think this girl is gone and Melissa is here in the stall with me. For a moment we were at a double sink counter, me at the left. It felt like we were on a trip and it felt weird to have the left side. I think we’re now holding each other in the shower water and talking. We touch each other.




I am with Dad and Makayla on a sprawling beach of bright ochre sand. I get the notion to run and jump into the water and tell them I’m going to do so. I run, but when I get to the water I am met with a powerful current that renders me incapable of getting any farther. I keep trying but cannot surmount the bombardment of the unceasing tail end of these ocean waves. They are quite long, and I notice how hard they churn the water.