• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




    View RSS Feed

    rshort1202

    1. 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.
    2. Wednesday, February 20

      by , 02-24-2019 at 12:06 AM
      I am at work when I discover a huge rack of clothes that need to go back. (This place doesnít look like work, but more like a storeís vestibule for shopping carts crossed with, now that I think about it, the womenís fitting room that I brought clothes to yesterday. Their rack was very full). Upon closer inspection, the myriad pants? look new, like theyíve just gotten here and are ready to be put on the floor. So I instead enter one of the fitting rooms, instantly disappointed that I do, finding a small sea of tried-on pants left on the ground. I notice a lot of their tags - Levis? As I filter through them, I think I find evidence of shoplifting. I end up finding quite a few fake bills (20s and 50s I think). I hold them up to the light, making the ink on them appear to have been drawn on. This and the crude renditions of the faces on the bills is quite humorous.




      I am at work? (it seems to be the area above the escalators that is still near the clothes but is mostly now the area for appliances). I seem to be in a large kitchen model. I think there is an island counter surrounded by a large L of counter space and a plethora of cabinets. A middle aged couple and the mom of one of them come over now. The wife tells me she is looking for a cookie cutter. I start looking for her, genuinely trying, searching every single drawer and cabinet, left to right. I come across a total of three circular apple slicers, one of which I offer as the closest thing we have to a cookie cutter. She politely declines, but genuinely thanks me for looking, then tells me to have a nice day and leaves. I consider bringing one of the apple slicers to Dadís. I now look in a drawer very close to the ground and find a bunch of newspaper clippings. They are ads or sales. One is offering a pizza for a certain price contingent upon you reviewing some place. I see a 13 near the top, leading me to believe that it is from 2013. I also discover a few black shirts - Marilyn Manson and Nine Inch Nails band shirts. They are marked down with turquoise clearance stickers on their tags. I think that Mom is keeping them in here so she can give them to me as (Christmas?) gifts later. I think about how I donít even really know NIN and how the prices will probably be expired by now. There is also a soft looking, navy blue Grateful Dead shirt that I think is going to be for Dad. Makayla is here now, on the phone, and she asks what we should get for Dad. I tell her I donít know.
    3. Tuesday, February 19

      by , 02-22-2019 at 02:29 AM
      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 sheís 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 wasnít 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. Iím 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 manís demeanor. He takes Sageís order, which is Ďspare porkí. 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 Ďspare porkí sounds wrong, so I say instead Ďthe same thingí. 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 donít 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). Iím also wearing dress pants and a tucked dress shirt. He now asks me where the Ďhalfway pointí 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 Iím 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 Iím 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 whatís left of a joint in a plastic bag that was hidden in my laundry basket. She seems really upset, mad, or disappointed. Iím not sure why; itís really not that big of a deal to me. Sheís 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 Iím 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 thereís less hair (I didnít intend to remove the hair on my legs). I tell Melissa I just accidentally removed all my leg hair and she doesnít believe me. I rub my legs, feeling only skin and stubble.
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    4. Saturday, February 16

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:43 AM
      I am about to go to a party with Amy, Blake, Salina, etc. Melissa is with me right now, and I think weíre at Dadís. We go into the garage to pick a few beers from a case (*they look like the Lost Coast ones). While weíre getting ready/are ready, a dark SUV pulls into the driveway. The people about our age in it are dressed up like itís Halloween and are coming back from this party like itís already over. One of the guys seems a little too intoxicated. We stop and talk with them for a little. Now Iím thinking about the possibility of them offering weed at the party. I consider if Iíd accept or not and how much, if any, Iíd mix with drinking.




      Iím in a bedroom, writing down either the notes for a dream Iíve remembered or the dream itself. Dad and Scottie are in here too. Scottie is awkwardly watching me, seemingly amazed. Itís kind of annoying, and I think about going to a different room.
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    5. Monday, February 11

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:42 AM
      I am working at Dillardís, and it seems like Iím working the fitting room in menís. A middle aged man comes in and is looking for something, a suit coat I think. I think I help him find one. He tries some on and finds one fairly quick. Before he leaves the dim fitting room, he asks me if domestic? or something else is okay, sort of discreetly. I hesitate and tell him Ďdomesticí. He nonchalantly thanks me while holding out a wad of bills. After heís gone, I see a receipt for $100? and a tip of $40 - what he gave to me.
    6. Sunday, February 10

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:40 AM
      Something about Sam and some guy. Sam and this less-than-quality guy are hooking up or dating or otherwise getting together at some level other than friends. I think all of us, and Brittney?, are outside. Sam and the boy go up in the hills. He has blond hair and a typical Ďfuck boyí style. I think he is also up to no good.




      I am at Beer NV with Melissa, Brooke, and I think one other. It looks almost entirely different though, looking more like a restaurant, with different sections of tables. The energy is more subdued as well, feeling like a lazy afternoon. I have sat at the table in the midst of their playing a game that consists of a coaster sized circle piece with dots in equal increments around its perimeter. The players are supposed to connect the dots by choosing a person in the spot that correlates with the dot. The person or the connection of the dots is based on how many siblings the chosen person has? The connections then become edges along which this circle is cut, creating a new shape. (The object may be to produce a certain new shape?) On my turn, I pick Brooke. They ask Ďyou think?í, mostly rhetorically but partially seriously, as they have already tried choosing Brooke but are also running out of possible solutions. Now, everyone here is playing a new (trivia?) game. An employee (Deborah?) is coming around, checking for people using their phones. I am on my phone, but Iím only checking the tap list on Digital Pour. I lock the screen and lay it on the table, seeing no need to worry about it being out if Iím really not cheating. I think about how I didnít know they do this many games here. I now think Iím ready for another beer, feeling fine to drive, and alternate between the menu on my phone and the physical menu just within reading distance, up on the wall. The hanging chalkboard? is quite large, though the writing is small. It hangs above a rectangular table that is behind the bar counter, which is also fairly large. Two men, one old, sit at this table. Nobody else is going up to the counter, but I think it is still okay to do so. I now have a glass of beer, but I am outside with Dad and Melissa. It looks like the old houseís backyard. Dad starts talking to us. He has a few more sips of a dark beer in the glass in his hand (a nonic pint type) and the indication of more than a few sips past in his eyes and speech. This beer is a contrast to mine, which looks to be blood orange. Dad ends up showing us pictures on his phone, his age betrayed by how he holds it and swipes through pictures. One of the pictures is of Dad standing and smiling with a younger blond lady. The next picture is that same girl and one other, seated on a bench on either side of Dad, their shirts held open, small tits exposed and nipples censored (by some overlay/exposure or addition to the photo). I almost think heís going to realize he didnít mean to show us this one, but he leaves it up and starts giggling unabashedly. Iím not sure what to do other than laugh along at the entire situation.
      Tags: beer, game, nudity
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    7. 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.
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    8. 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.
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    9. Wednesday, February 6

      by , 02-17-2019 at 12:36 AM
      I am, I think, outside of a large, unfamiliar house. Itís slightly above me in elevation, and thereís a slightly winding walkway down to the water? It ends in an octagonal and covered dock. Itís covered in what seems like a green canvas material. There are multiple pieces of it, resulting in slight openings where their edges meet. Someone is/was with me; I ask her if she thinks the weed scent would linger down here, and she says no. I recline in a chair and light a joint. After a few tokes, I shake off the resulting clump of ash.
    10. Tuesday, February 5

      by , 02-15-2019 at 11:38 PM
      I am going to go to Beer NV with Brittney and a group of her friends and I think also to celebrate Makaylaís birthday. Iím in the process of walking to the car with Makayla outside of Dadís house when I realize I havenít gotten anything. Now I am at Beer NV (Makaylaís not here). It is smaller and almost seems more like a converted house. The tap list is on a smaller screen, and each has a thumbnail picture to go with it (*not pictures of the brewerís logo or the beerís logo like in reality). I notice Brittney and Chris, though there may be others. I end up with two beers, I think the second coming after my first is close to empty. The first is a beer dark golden in color but milk stout in taste. Itís smooth and tasty. The next beer is a juicy/hazy IPA, and it is in a small milk carton. Thereís a glass with a sip of orange juice left in it; I get the idea that combining them might result in something tasty. Now we are going to go somewhere for a bit, so I get the idea to put this carton in the fridge before we leave (not sure if I actually do). When we return, I walk up to the couple-seat counter, from behind which the owner greets me. I ask for the beer with the picture of the band, saying I canít see which it is from here. He grins and says the band name (something both Irish and punk sounding, starting with an L). Heís saying that itís pretty strong, as if I wouldnít like it. I tell him Iím fine with that, and itís almost like he doesnít believe me, but he still pours it. It is in a simple and smaller glass stein. I finish it fairly quickly (it tastes like the Brewerís Cabinet scotch ale) and go back for another. Now everyone is trying to leave to go out someplace else. I think theyíre going to be drinking there too. I close the tab and see the total on the receipt as $96 (or $98). I think it should not be that high, going over whatís on it. Iím not sure how much to tip either. I think I now leave with both copies of thee receipt. I think Iíll need to bring it back and also leave my phone number on it for rewards
      Tags: beer, celebration
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    11. Sunday, February 3

      by , 02-15-2019 at 11:28 PM
      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 Iím 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. Thereís the cafeteria weíre in, the doorway we came in and one directly opposite it, and one hallway off to the left. All in all, itís 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 otherís shoulders in greeting. Surveying the tables, I see everyone already has food, mostly cheeseburgers. This makes me realize that Iím pretty hungry. I wish I wouldíve ordered one, thinking that it is probably too late to do so now, that theyíre done making them for the evening. Now I am sitting by Nelson and his dad. His dad is combing Nelsonís hair, which looks slightly longer and thinner and almost a translucent, fluorescent white-blond. Heí combing it into almost a Trump-do. Nelson sits placidly. Dan is talking to me about haircuts, but Iím finding it difficult to hear. My responses at times are nonsensical because I canít hear and donít want to ask for a repetition. They start leaving, and I follow suit. We leave through what very much looks like a houseís garage (the two getting into a black truck/SUV parked within). Melissaís car is a few feet to the right, perpendicularly in the street. Sheís 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 sheís in the street. Dan apparently didnít think she was in the way, as heís already backing out, pretty quickly. I ask Melissa if she wants to hang out now or not. She says she doesnít care and that itís up to me, to which I say the same exact thing. We end up going home (to Momís?).
    12. Saturday, February 2

      by , 02-15-2019 at 11:27 PM
      I am outside and climbing up a fairly small rock face that seems to be above a washed out gully (with a small trickle of water, I think). It is definitely tall enough to where I should have a rope, though Iím pretty certain I donít. Itís probably 20-30 feet tall. I donít think I have climbing shoes on either. The stone is a sort of glossy, but not entirely slick, bronze. It contains more features than inset holds; theyíre pretty large and secure feeling. Towards the top, though, I think I come across loose sections. I try to break off a large undercling. When I summit, Iím relieved to have made it without falling or having a hold break on me. Now, I am in a bathroom and looking in a mirror. I mustíve been wearing a tank top, as my neck, collar bones, shoulders, and arms are burnt to a bright red. The fact that Iím sunburned really irritates me.




      I am inside some building, a department store?, with Melissa. Sam is here, but besides her I donít see any other people. Sam is at the bottom of an escalator (the up escalator, I think), but I donít think itís moving at all. She is crouched down; there is an infant one to two steps above her. It is in need of a diaper change, which is what Sam is attending to. The child (a boy) is supine, the diaper open, some of the excessive amount of excrement in a clump a few steps below Sam. I donít even see wipes or a new diaper. Sam appears flustered.
    13. Friday, February 1

      by , 02-15-2019 at 11:24 PM
      I am at a house. It seems like I may be staying here for a little while, as in a few nights. Andrea from high school is here too. Iím about to take a shower, and I find out, as she comes over at the same time, that she was about to too. I think there is some discussion, after which I end up taking a quick shower first. I am getting ready to go see a therapist? Mom and Makayla are coming with me, or at least are in the car. I think Iím driving. The landscape is sort of empty and drab. (*The following is not the best recollection, and almost seems like it was from another dream but like it fits with this one too). While talking with the woman therapist, I become angered with the inefficiency of the whole thing and end up beating her. (*This feels very gross to write; in the dream there didnít seem to be too much emotion behind it, just simple physical contact).
    14. Thursday, January 31

      by , 02-12-2019 at 06:18 AM
      I am with Melissa in some clothes store. I carry three pairs of Levis as we casually go into a fitting room stall and close the door. Itís just big enough for the two of us. Without me trying to do so, the ink tag on one of the pairs separates and comes off. I try them on and they fit very well (though theyíre a little long). Theyíre sort of a faded Tahoe blue in color. Since they fit and the security tag fell off, Iím going to wear them out under my other pants. I tuck the cuffs into my socks for extra invisibility, and with my shirt back on they are entirely concealed. I briefly consider where to leave the ink tag, though it doesnít matter a whole lot. I think about bringing the other two pairs back out, but then know it would be suspicious without the other pair I came in with, so I leave them in here. We casually walk out (into the mall?) and towards what would be the food court. We get in line for something (Brooke may be with us) Thereís a guy about our age or younger in front of us. One of his friends appears and starts snaking his way in front of us. He has something with him that says (or he is labeled?) ĎLaddersí. The first guy is ĎChutesí, so I guess it makes sense for them to be together and donít fuss about him cutting. Melissa is holding a drink, a thin and tall glass clutched at chest level. This second guy starts grabbing at it, which is when I start to have a problem. He tries to make casual conversation. I clasp my hand on his shoulder, and, in a sort of fake amiability, pull him aside with more of a shove. I ask/tell him something. The first guy has his phone out and, sensing this new tension, bluntly says something to Melissa about her unfollowing/blocking him. Without missing a beat, she coolly responds with something to the effect of Ďnot a chanceí or Ďnot in a million years.í i get the sense that maybe weíve met them before and she was receptive on social media to be polite and/or because they didnít seem too bad. We now pay for the mini golf? at the counter and go wait at some tables outside. Oddly enough, we are still going to be mini golfing with them.




      I am at work when I discover that there is more to recover than there should be. Clothes are misplaced and strewn in random places. I notice a section in particular that no one attempted to fix while I was gone. This really irritates me, but I start working on it anyway. On top of a shelf there are pins and nails and the paper filling from inside the shoes. I see Rocio over here, so I go talk to her. She speaks a lot in Spanish, repeating some things. I understand some of it, trying to reply in Spanish too. I think she asks if I am going to teach. I tell her maybe, really considering it. The large, yellow cup from Dadís is here and full of water. I take a large swig.




      I am at a very small concert festival with Melissa. I see a lineup poster by a stage - Venom is playing at the same time as another band (theyíre both headlining though?). Melissa asks me to pick which one we should watch. I pick Venom because they sound familiar. They come on and start, and Melissa rushes to the stage. I imagine moshing.
    15. Monday, January 28

      by , 02-12-2019 at 05:44 AM
      I am in some room, open and airy, yet almost a room that feels like it should be smaller (I canít tell if itís more of a gym or a bedroom, or some combination of both). There are only two others here: Allison and Harper. I am sitting on the floor, my legs straight out in front of me. Thereís a small gap between them, in which Harper sits. Sheís nestled between my calves, facing me, holding onto my hands. I tilt her to the side, as if Iím going to let her fall, before moving her back to an upright position. I watch as each tilting brings a smile to her face. Meanwhile, Allison is out on the floor and throwing me the needle-sided portions of the security ink tags. She throws them at me, and I attempt to punch them back at her. Some of the needles are making contact and tearing up my knuckles. My preoccupation with the baby/toddler coupled with the inefficiency of punching these things results in me feeling like I am not making for a very fun time for Allison. I think she may sense this too.
      Tags: baby, game
      Categories
      Uncategorized
    Page 1 of 2 1 2 LastLast