rshort1202

I’m going to get my hair cut. Sitting in the traditional-looking salon, I feel like I don’t really want to be here. I’ve asked to just get a trim when the hairdresser takes a razor with a really close setting to the back of my head. I reiterate, but she says she can’t do just a trim. At this point, I simply get up and leave, though with no apparent hard feelings. Running my hand over the back of my head, just above my neck, there is a slightly shorter patch but then portions to the side that feel long (longer than it really is right now).

I’m on what feels like a trip with EF. We are in what feels like a hostel. It seems of average quality, multiple floors, and slightly cramped. We cannot find the guide, so I’ve been chosen to fill in. Brooke is here, and I don’t think I recognize any others. I’m not sure why I’ve been selected, and I’m not really sure what I can do to help.



(fragment) I’m in some building that’s a big U shape, looking for the room in which I have a class or appointment starting soon. I can’t find the room. These halls are small and strange, like they’re dug into the ground. I pass Jennifer and Alex (from the UK EF tour) and say hi and begin following them, feeling better with at least a familiar face around.

I’m about to leave from work for home. Mom calls me to say it’s going to take an extra hour. She doesn’t specify, but I become exasperated, knowing it’s traffic. I just want to be home. I head out now, on a bike, and it looks like I’m downtown. I think I see some patches of snow, but there really isn’t any traffic. On the ride, I discover that the bike’s seat is too high for me, causing some awkwardness. I arrive home now, which is a large, empty feeling house. Mom and Makayla are here. Mom has bought me a bunch of NA beer, a kind I’ve never seen before. I try one and it’s not great.



I’m in the kitchen of some house (it feels similar to Mom’s). Looking through the window above the sink, the view is of a partially sunlit hill. It is tall and steep, slightly rocky, yet lushly green. The illuminated portions (it seems like a sun that’s close to setting) are vibrant and awe-inspiring. Maggie and Stella are out in the yard (which just seems like open space) and I think about calling them in.

I am at work while the Vegas-Florida Stanley Cup game is on. It feels like midday to early afternoon. Zoe is here, but she leaves to go do something. I go into the office and write the current score on the board, 3-2 Vegas. I use orange for Vegas and can’t think of Florida’s colors. I think it’s subtle but that someone who knows what’s going on would understand it. I notice that there are a couple of folding chairs (the ones we have that my mom gave us) throughout the store, some open and some not. I think people might be watching the game here? Now, I’m ringing up some girl who awkwardly offers to buy the table out front and the chairs for $15. She says it with a lisp as she holds the money folded up in front of her. I don’t know how much the table is going for, so I call Zoe. she answers and starts speaking so quickly that it sounds like it went straight to voicemail. She asks if I’m Bruce, sounding paranoid, then asks if it’s me. She says the table can go for $100 and the chairs for $15 each. I tell the girl this. Stella is here, on the counter, and ever so gently steps down, towards the girl who holds her hand out to her.

I’m with Makayla? and Melissa, going to get a haircut. I think we’re scheduled one after the other. I think Melissa has just gone; I see her sitting in the chair in front of the mirror with shoulder length hair that looks lighter in color and volume. She is smiling a genuine smile. It is my turn now, but I’m not going to. I’m growing my hair out, so I don’t know why I’d erase all the progress I’ve made so far. I think they might trim my beard, but I know I can do that myself. There’s a sense of disappointment, like the haircut was mandatory, but I stick to my guns. I briefly see my hair in a mirror and feel it (it’s about the length it really is now).

Kevin is going to come over for the first time in a long while. I think I’m with Melissa, in our house (this house feels similar in ways but also like it’s in a different town, a small one a good ways out of Reno). I think he must’ve said he’s coming at 7 because I look at my phone and think that he’s late when I see 7:10. I know it’s not all that late, and then he shows up. Stella and Maggie bark when he comes in but then get over it very quickly and impressively for someone they’ve never met. We are outside (the yard feels large and open, I think without a fence, and we’re on some gravel right now). Kevin stands and talks at length about something. He’s wearing a hat and sunglasses - I think that the glasses are unnecessary in the twilight. I get a glimpse of red eyes and large pupils, confirming my suspicion of him being high on something. Now I’m walking through the neighborhood (it reminds me of Opa’s) to another house. This house stands out with its modern décor of white with black accents. There’s a wrap-around porch in the front and some openings where you can see into its kitchen. We do go inside and grab a rug and some ‘designer’ firewood that matches the theme - we’re allowed by someone to do this. The logs have artificial black edges. Back at our house, we switch out the rug. This new one is a brighter tan and I don’t like it nearly as much, though I think Melissa does. Kevin is gone at this point, but Dad is here, and he’s made me a Ziploc of seasoned steaks to send with him.

I’m rolling a cart of Fiction out into the store. The store seems fairly crowded. I put the cart in my usual spot and get ready to start shelving when a younger middle aged, paunchy man in a slightly grimy gray t-shirt starts grabbing off the cart. I notice two of the authors are Brad Thor and Jack Higgins. The Brad Thor mass market that he grabs is pretty beat up but still has a new $6.99 sticker on it. I mention that that’s definitely not new. I grab another copy of the same book and it falls apart at a crease in the spine. The man only speaks to me a few times, and they’re all gruff, things like “Yeah. I want that.”


(fragment) I’m somewhere with Melissa, and we have a very full recycling bin. There are a couple of low, folding beach chairs on top, I don’t know why. (*This one makes me remember that we didn’t put the bins out last night).

I am rock climbing with Danielle. I think we’ve just summited and now we have to get down. We stand on the edge, a little area of soil and some small plant growth among the stone, and Danielle seems afraid. I think that we didn’t take into account the descent (which, thinking of it, involved downclimbing that I don’t feel prepared for).



I am in some room with Melissa. I think it’s called an ‘exploration room’ or something similar. I think we pay to be in here for an hour or so. It seems similar to a massage room - dim lighting and an air of relaxation, except there are two full sized beds. There’s a man and two unfamiliar women our age here. We’re going to have sexual contact of some sort with them. Looking at the girls, I don’t feel any sexual attraction, but there is an air of relaxed acceptance. The man (who I now think is Teddy from work, though it doesn’t exactly look like him) reclines on the bed and Melissa and the other two girls crawl up to him. They pull down his jeans and begin going down on him. I’m off to the side a bit but reach my hand in and cup his warm scrotum. His penis is very stiff but skinny and only about four inches or so. After just a short amount of time, he comes. It gets all over, including on one of the girl’s face. Now, I’m under the impression that it’ll be my turn. I recline eagerly onto the other bed, but no one comes over to me. Maggie is here and there is something about her interacting with a cat at the sliding door that I guess disrupts the mood.

I am walking through a ‘neighborhood’. I think I begin to realize that it’s not really a neighborhood, as there are many styles of houses without any separation. It feels endless; with every corner turned there are just more streets, more corners, more houses. Some of these houses seem pretty large. I get a glimpse in one with all white walls that looks to have an open space two stories high. A lot of the architecture here is atypical - mostly the proportions just look funky.



I’m in some building, what feels like a second story bedroom in an antique house. There are a couple others here around my age (they seem familiar in the dream, but I don’t think it’s anyone I know). I’m showing them how to play a game that consists of throwing red dots? onto a bird tilted slightly back. I think the next person has to throw theirs on the same spot. They’re not paying attention that well.

I am in a house with Zoe. A man approaches the door, and Zoe takes it as a threat. More serious than I’ve ever seen her, she draws a handgun and approaches the door, pistol held down with straight arms. I think there is a brief interaction, and then I see that he has some kind of rifle. They don’t reach an amicable decision and instead begin firing at each other. Each shoots many rounds; the exchange seems it should be way more deadly given the separation of only a few feet and a screen door. I see Stella outside the door and go get involved. The gunshots are very quiet and I can just about see the bullets move through the air. Some even hit Stella, and she seems unaffected. The man is now on the ground, face up, and now I shoot him. I shoot him multiple times in the face. Each shot causes a small gore, yet he continues slowly talking, taunting. I become exasperated and finally after a few more bullets, he quiets.

I’m at an airport, trying to find a certain terminal. I think I’m trying to get to Melissa and/or she’s somewhere else here at the airport. It feels like the airport at home, but slightly different. It has the long and low layout. I’m in one building now and have to get to the other across the way and they look separated with tarmac and/or railroad track. I get to the end of this building and don’t understand how I’m supposed to get over there. There is a shuttle running, but it seems to be going in the wrong direction. Everyone else here seems calm and like they know what they’re doing.

I’m walking through a neighborhood that looks slightly similar to Dad’s (and maybe vaguely familiar to another dream). I’m walking behind the houses on what is either a pathway or just some open space. This row of houses is on a slope, what feels like 30-45°, with the slope diagonal with the line of houses, not front to back. At times I traverse over a fence or whatever else is in my way. I end up looking at the fences, some wood and some chain link, most in need of repair. In fact, the owner of the one I’m looking at, a younger woman, comes out to talk to me. It’s not confrontational at all; she starts showing me pegs in a line of manufactured holes ¾ of the way up the wooden fence. She shows me how arranging 1-2 of the pegs in a hole causes dirt from behind to come out. Now, a younger and darker skinned man appears on the trail. I feel like he is a fence salesman and I hope he doesn’t come over here. The lady and I are now outside the open garage of her house. There are some things on the ground, but it’s tidy overall. I think my house is two to the right. We continue talking and I glance down, noticing that she is wearing only panties and a shirt. I walk over a few houses now and Makayla is outside this one. Right away she shoves a piece of something she’s holding into my mouth - a strawberry and vanilla flavored cookie with corresponding ice cream.