rshort1202

I am hanging out in a house with Melissa, Daylen, and one other. I am not sure whose house it is. I am sitting a little ways from them, and Daylen is trying to be alone with Melissa. I am not sure why they need to be alone right now, and I’m not really angry, but it does make me feel a little weird. I look up and they are gone. I stay here for a bit, eating one of those glazed chocolate pies as well as one other sweet, but then decide to go outside and find them. This neighborhood consists of similar houses, one street that I can see, and an abundance of lush lawn. It is almost labyrinthine. I start walking along a narrow section of lawn between the houses and spot the three walking along the street up ahead. I crouch-run up to a chain link fence and get down behind it. Melissa is either in front or behind, not too near either of the other guys i now know they are trying to catch Katydids. In fact, two different ones fly up and land on my arms before flying off again. I now head back to the house, and these passages of lawn are now inside. This ‘inside’ seems to be a corridor (with walls of a house?) with the lawn as the floor. It does not proceed straight ahead, but turns slightly in both directions. There are openings along the walls, either to rooms or to full houses. I think that the floor being grass is for fire protection. I imagine a fire coming through here.

I am outside somewhere that looks very familiar - very similar to Frenchmans. There are three lines of people, with about 20 or less in the largest line. I get into the ‘Lovebug’ line and none of the people my age in it look familiar. Someone clarifies that we have ‘moved up’ to Fireflies, so I move over. The lines now proceed up a moderate hill on an old, overgrown dirt road. I am wearing pants and long socks. The socks are kind of annoying on my ankles and the pants are hot and not giving me as much flexibility as I’d like. Someone walking with me makes a comment about them taking us on a strenuous walk. I don’t think it’s bad, but as I look at the incline and overgrowth, I could see how it would be for someone not used to it. We’re now reaching a crest in the hill and a building up here. I end up in this building - a bar and grill or something - with Dad. We’re seated at a table close to the corner and the bar, and we’re going to try a beer here. A lady comes over, I think we need a little longer, then it takes a while for her to come back. Looking out the window, I think about how there’s still a little ways to go. I am now back outside and walking. I’m with Jon, and we’re on more flat but forested terrain. It is greener and almost more inviting. The air is cooler and it is more dim and not as exposed. There is also a small river up here. I think there may also be a house, as Jon is saying and keeps saying something about ‘Jim’. He also keeps saying something about a spider (the image in my head is a large, black one, maybe a black widow). There are multiple wooden bridges across this river as we move onward. They are dark wood pieces placed parallel with the river, creating a flat bridge with supports every few pieces. When I watch Jon walk over some of them, the pieces move, swiveling, like a bead on a necklace. He’s been fine so far, but when he jumps onto one of the bridges, quite a ways from the bank, the pieces give way, causing his legs to slip through and him to be caught on one of the supports. He does have a grasp, but appears mostly stuck. I end up by him (in the water?) and am going to help him up. He places a small, circular, water-logged piece of meat onto the wood and then proceeds to clamber out of the water that seems turgid and turbulent yet somehow still.


I am outside somewhere that seems like a college campus or some other communal area. It seems slightly dim out. I have a pack of cigarettes and am smoking one. Others here are doing the same. I hold it between my middle and index fingers, noticing that everyone else does too. I think Niki is here. This carton is overly large and light blue. The inside slides open, revealing the cigarettes that also seem too large and like they’re made of plastic. I smoke one down, self conscious of my aggressive in and exhales, and want another, ashamedly. I think I smoked it too far? and it felt like the soft plastic piece sort of broke off when I got to the end. I think I now go somewhere with Niki - though it feels not as if we’re going together - but simply to the same place at the same time. Chelsea is here. It is brought up how she’s all but kicked a heroin habit, but is about to take it up again. We try to dissuade her, but she is blank, resolute, inconsolable. It is brought up where she would find the substance, and they say you need only follow this street. My gaze follows it down. It’s well known that it’s not the best place, and must be known for a prevalence of the drug. I think it’s residential, though it seems dirty and desolate out here.


I am outside and moving through some dirt trail between houses in a fairly rural neighborhood (almost like Dad’s). It seems I cover a lot of ground too quickly, almost like I’m watching it happen, instead of actually walking or running. I come to a straight-away that ends in a left turn that dead ends at the side of a house. On top of the path is a dilapidated train track. It follows the straight-away but is a few feet/a body’s height off the ground when it rounds the corner. I wonder how I am going to move along this, as it twists right before the house and may be incomplete in a section. The wall that the track runs into is a neutral color (light blue/grey?) and is slightly aged and worn and bare except for one large window. Through the window I see a partially drawn curtain and two chairs. I can hear people moving about talking inside, and these people are moving out of this house. It’ already pretty bare, but I start moving cups and other everyday items off a shelf. I think the people here don’t know that I am here? I now start moving stacks of DVDs (the ones we have at Mom’s, I’m pretty sure).



Analysis:

Later today, I go on a walk with Mom, on which we seem to come to some realizations about the first and third dreams from last night. What prompts these realizations is the sighting of a small bridge being constructed in a front yard. I find this significant, as the bridge as of yet only consists of the support pieces. I liken this to the recounting of my dream bridge and its support pieces and other swiveling pieces. I tell Mom that this dream involved multiple bridges over water and Jon jumping onto one, only to become stuck and in need of my assistance. I find it necessary to detail the background to this dream having any significance, that being me viewing the movie Hereditary on Saturday night and consequently contemplating a séance of my own with a plausible intention being contact with Opa. mom and I agree on the bridges, water, Jon, and my helping Jon all being symbolic in strict relation to Opa and his passing. Mom is the one what mentions that Jon was the one not present and therefore behind in coping with the situation. I seem to be helping Jon in this process and to me it seems to be because of my recent inclinations towards the idea of performing a séance to contact Opa. i believe the bridges are direct symbols of the ‘bridge’ to the ‘other side’. As I write this I begin to experience chills when contemplating the ‘turgid and turbulent yet somehow still” water, probably because it represents what the symbolic bridge physically bridges. Is probably significant that Jon surmounts the bridge. I am unsure of the piece of meat, as well as any meanings ‘Jim’s house’. During a pause in writing this, currently being unsure of the presence of ‘Jim’ and the spider, I go to the garage. Kneeling down by the fridge (which is right where the Black Widow used to be) I get a pre-recorded phone call in which the voice tells me his name is Jim. i immediately think it’s odd that it’s a Jim, but it isn’t until I’m recounting to Mom that I got a phone call from a Jim that it hits me that it was right by where we had the black widow, the one from the dream. Later on, still unfinished with this analysis, I text Kat telling her briefly what happened and asking if she’s had anything happen that has to do with Opa. She tells me a little while ago she had a dream of him in a silver Subaru, then she mentions how he is probably wishing he could’ve been at the graduation. It then hits me that the very beginning of the dream is probably a representation of the graduation. In it, I say ‘moved up’, which directly relates to Opa, while the whole scene can stand for Makayla’s graduation. As of now, it seems that the annoyance of my long socks and pants is the only part without apparent symbolism. As Mom and I started discussing the bridges, I realized that the train track in the third dream bears much resemblance to this image of a track or some sort of conveyance with missing or otherwise inoperable pieces. I believe this represents the contact or attempt at contact with Opa. The train tracks are an overt reference to Opa’s involvement with the V&T as well as a visual metaphor. The neighborhood is significant as well. I also feel that the tracks dead-ending in the house seems to be significant, as the house is another symbol for Opa or for the ‘other side’. The window conveys pretty much the same meaning, and the two empty chairs do not feel arbitrary. Mom mentions the two chairs that were always in Opa and Oma’s living room, and though that is true, the chairs in this dream were wooden and straight-backed, facing each other slightly, seemingly symbolizing conversation. I think it is symbolic that I never really see the people but only hear them (an image of the ‘spirit world’ or the impression of people contacting it) and also that they are moving out of this house. After all of this, I am left with the feeling that these dreams did not by chance occur so noteworthy and significant-seeming directly after my inclination towards conducting a seance. I with impressed with their impression, considering my lack of detailed dreams for quite a while, and believe that alone makes them significant. And then the sighting of the partially constructed bridge was the conduit for the deeper, real meaning. Every association produced varying levels of chills, which is enough for me to know that I have found the dream’s real ‘meaning’. I believe the dreams were some spiritual connection to Opa or an affirmation towards the idea of contact, with the same feeling of knowing I had about the dream in which he came into Starbucks when I was working, though not quite as understated.

I am outside on a climbing trip with some others at what seems to be the Donner Lake area. We approach the short, dark rock, and I see that it is the route named Short Subject (it is a shorter route, and the bolts do lead horizontally, but in the wrong direction. The ground below is flat and not steeply sloping away, like it is in reality). There are already quickdraws set and a faded orange rope running through them. Lucas walks up the route and begins soloing the route. Everyone else in the group is not paying much attention to his climbing, but rather involved in talk amongst themselves. I glance over, and see Luke back on the ground (too soon to have already summited the rock) and slowly rubbing his shoulder. He must have fallen, though, given the time elapsed, not from too high. I am now going to climb this route. I approach the slight incline of rock right before the face and see the shorter, pudgy man with thinning blonde hair who is to be belaying me. I am not entirely sure if he is attached to the rope or not. We exchange a few customary pre-ascension words, in which I relay my unease about soloing this due to my hiatus from climbing. We decide on me just clipping into every draw (with no rope attached to me). I imagine and contemplate the distance between draws that I could not cross if I were clipped into a draw. Nevertheless, I begin to grip the overly chalked starting holds: a small sidepull and a small, knobby pinch, both on the ride side of the arête. As I lift my right foot up to the small foothold, it causes an imbalance that makes my mass begin to swing away from the wall. Someone tells me to use the hold around the corner instead, and I do, diminishing the imbalance. I can now establish myself, and am ready to climb.

(fragment) I am somewhere with the cousins. It seems we are at a round table that is set with a white table cloth, yet are still trying to get into this place (somewhere in a large feeling casino?) There is a large cover charge that everyone starts pitching in cash for, almost begrudgingly it looks. I can't tell if their expression is betraying this emotion or that they've already had a little to drink. There is now $11 still owed, so I pull out a white credit card and hand it to the short and rotund woman with bushy brown hair, telling her to put the remaining $11 on it. She walks away with it and another card, as well as the small stack of cash.

I am driving my Subaru on what feels like a Californian freeway. The lanes seem small, as well as the freeway itself. It may be only a few lanes wide. There are also other, similar freeways traveling in all directions around this one. The resulting surrounding is one of complexity and crowdedness, as well as one of depth - a literal spaghetti bowl of freeway. I am down towards the bottom, where a portion of the sunlight cannot reach. Outside my window, there is a view of the complex concrete in dim lighting that I think would constitute an intriguing and captivating photograph. The proximity and near standstill of traffic allows me to hear a woman in a car somewhere above me cough. Now, as I drive up a slight incline, I realize that my car is not even started. There are no lights on on the display. I turn the key to start it, but it only chokes. Still, the car is accelerating and braking, albeit less than in a fully functioning manner; stepping forcefully on the accelerators seems to give the car less power than it has while climbing a steep hill. I've now parked somewhere out here (there seems to be nothing else around) and watch a few people walk by. I must've stopped to try and resolve my vehicle issue, as I spot a couple standing around that I decide to approach for assistance. The man is perhaps in his late 20s or early 30s, wearing a sleeveless tank top that contributes to his stereotypically redneck appearance. He is accompanied by a cliché blonde girlfriend. I approach and relay my situation, asking if he can help, saying I have my own jumper cables. He coolly and impassively tells me he can help, telling me he too has his own cables, instructing me to bring my car around. I am grateful, though I hadn't expected a decline, as it really is quick and isn't a major inconvenience. Ignoring his unnecessary addition about his own cables, I go to get my vehicle. As I drive back, I am unable to find the man again. There are three tiny and partially filled parking lots on this uneven terrain, and I drive through all of them to no avail.

I am in some building with the cousins. This place feels like an arcade or some type of attraction. It is large, dim, and airy. We pass through a large something that seems like a bounce house when I realize they have left me behind. It produces a bitter sadness, neither of the two components outweighing the other, the combination resulting in an ambivalent resolution. I think I end up talking with some others, though not entirely in an attempt to fill the transient void. Now, I am crawling out of an entrance to this structure. The material does not give like inflated vinyl should - it is hard and slick. There is a small wall on which one must down climb, and this is a sort of game. There is something similar to a jump rope that the climber draws taut across their body, resulting in the removal of their body below that line. The climber must then attempt to climb up/down. I position this rope to have it cut my legs off first, wanting to save my arms. After the line is positioned, the inferior body parts then dissipate, like the common conception of something disappearing by magic.

(fragment) I am in an opulent house, in which there is a room occupying a large corner. There may or may not be a bath tub. There is a bed, with sheets of white and very light hues. The space is very minimal, aiding in its elegance. I think that I am staying here and that this is my room. I think I am showing it to my girlfriend Melissa. It feels like this is downstairs.

Two fragments remembered upon waking and not written down, but summarized after reflecting upon them again and written down later in the day.

I’m with Alex in some room (a hotel?), and we’ve been sitting on the bed. I tell him that I calculated the odds of the Flatbush Zombies playing a Grateful Dead song on their current tour and it came out to be 33? times in however many shows. The odds of catching one seem to be pretty good. Alex seems to think this is pretty cool.

I am with Dad in a grocery store, getting something for dinner and an alcohol to go with it. I can’t decide which to get, but I keep thinking about one of the options - a wine. I make my decision and go and grab it, the 2 liter white wine.

I am in a fairly large subterranean cavern. It is very dark, with the dark stone walls and the dark water of indeterminable depth. Somehow, I am afloat on the surface of the water (whether by myself or on top of something). I pull out my phone to use its flashlight, but the screen’s luminescence is enough to enable to water, stone, and sparse vegetation along the walls to come eerily into view. I am slightly upset about this, as I wanted to see it first or only by the flashlight? Now, I am by a stone wall. It is featured enough to enable me to start ascending it, and I do so. The ridges are just close enough and just good enough, though they are a little small to be completely secure footholds. Still, I am too high to easily come back down, so I continue to the top. I climb up and over and am on a stone walkway traversing this wall. I follow it and find myself inside of a room (it looks like the office at Dad’s house? though blended into this area). Makayla is here, seated at a desk. I find it bizarre that I came up from a subterranean cavern and found myself here.

I am on a boat with Melissa. This boat has physical inclinations of being a speed boat, though there is a mental connotation of it being a much larger vessel, due to an array of items abundantly stored about. We are lying on a seat or some other space that is free of the mostly organized clutter. There is the open water to our right (I believe this boat is moving at a moderate speed) and the helm mostly visible a few yards from our heads. The semi-enclosedness and silmutaneous proximity to the open water creates an interesting feeling. Melissa is naked, her legs slightly splayed. I am comfortably between them, gently but aptly going down on her. I think someone is now up by the wheel of the boat, so we move to cover ourselves up a bit, though not completely.

I am on a trip or something with Dad, but we don’t feel to be too far from home. We’re outside, in an area that really reminds me of the Anderson Park area by Mom’s. It’s a neighborhood area, but with dirt trails and natural/small farm areas. I am seeing the area from on a map and zoom onto a street up ahead. I want to go to the end of this straight dirt trail, turn left, and onto the short dead-end street. Either we are there or I am seeing it from a satellite view on the map, but I see the few houses. They are fairly close together, though separated by leafy trees. Their brighter colors coupled with the area, the trees, and the sunlight filtering in creates a very pretty scene. Dad and I are walking and come to a pool of water about 15 feet or less across our path. I think it’s shallow enough to walk through. I stop to take pictures of the clouds, trees, and sky that are being reflected in the calm layer of water.

I have a child. This child is a newborn, though I’m not sure who birthed it. It almost seems as though it was not birthed, but rather simply came into existence. It almost seems that I ‘birthed’ it, by no literal means of the word, only that it’s existence came to be only through myself. Regardless of origins, I am holding it, with its small naked body and longer, black hair. There must have been some gestation period though, as I was assuming this child was a girl. But now it is being made known to me that the child is male. As I hold him, my reaction is a quiet yet jubilant “hell yes!” I am warm and content in the satisfaction of having a son. Later, I am apprehensive in the realization that I still have to work full work-weeks and slightly saddened and embarrassed that I still reside at home.