rshort1202

I am flying, rising up through the air. There are two others with me (I’m not sure if they’re unfamiliar or if I can’t remember what they are), the three of us in a triangular formation. I notice that we are very close to a huge, impossibly tall pine tree. I also hear the lyrics to ‘Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys’ playing in the background: “If you had just a minute to breathe and they granted you one final wish, would you ask for something like another chance?” This really gets to me; I think about it and listen to my heart, saying ‘yes’. The others do not, and I veer away from them, up and to the right. With some effort and vigor, I rise higher. I notice the ground far below, a patchwork of green and brown. I am falling back down now and land way less forcefully than I expected.

I’m at what I think is work. The area looks like a large garage or warehouse or combination of the two. It’s somewhat dim, though there are two large doors open. I’m sitting in a chair and trying to hide an erection by raising my right leg and resting its ankle on the other leg’s knee and holding a pair of pajama pants as casually as I can over it. I think it may be out of my underwear at one point. Now, Beth (from JCP) walks in and starts talking to me, I think about her car. She looks slightly different than I remember. Now I’m in what must be the store. There are fairly tall and crowded bookcases. There is a corner that I think no one ever goes into, so I head over there to change or touch myself? I then remember and worry about the fact that there is a mirror over this section. Before I can do anything, someone calls my name, and I come over to him. We are now outside of this warehouse. There is a smaller building at the end of this concrete lot; I go over to it because I think it has a bathroom. I’m bringing the flannel pajama pants so I can change. Before I get to the door, someone stops me again. I’m glad he does: I look through the gap between the door and door frame and see a man with a gun. He is muscular, with short hair and beard. He grips the silver pistol with both hands, it poised and ready. I have the feeling he’s looking for someone else, but still I don’t want to be in his way. I also see into the bathroom. It is mostly barren concrete with what looks like a pit toilet. The base of the toilet looks slightly filthy. This open door is motley blocking this little corridor and I’m glad at the little protection it affords. This guy seems to be going back and forth with another armed man on the other side of this small, square building. Me and this other guy by me do so for a while too, not wanting to get caught in the middle. I now take an opportunity and dash away from the building. The two men come out from the corridor spaces into the open and begin firing at each other. The bullets travel slow enough for me to track them but fast enough that I imagine they’d still cause harm. Each misses the other a few times. They are conversing during this; the first mentions how he was already shot and died? There is a sense that I did not have to run away from my spot and that it actually would’ve been better had I not. I feel ashamed at my cowardice.