rshort1202

I am working at Sherwin Williams. I think I have come back for just today. I think I’m going to just work today and use all my old info to clock in, etc, as if that’ll actually work. I’m thinking that the people still working here will remember me and remember that I left. I am in a sort of goofy, detached mood that has to do with me being back in a place that I willingly left. This place definitely doesn’t look like SW, but more like a movie theater or something similar. Everyone is gathering in a dim room with a stage or some other platform and fairly steep, tiered, red seats. Melissa’s dad is giving a speech or talking to everyone. I am walking in with Nathaniel Fuller? (He appears to be as he was when I knew him). He is in the lead and takes an aisle seat in the front row. I’m not sure whether I’m sitting with him or not, so I survey the seating. There’s an empty row, but I’m not sure if it’d be weird if I sat alone or not. I end up taking the seat between him and another (familiar?) guy. The seat seems small and I feel squished between the two. Now, (or maybe it was earlier?) I am walking around here. There’s a long hallway area and different inlets. I enter one and am in a grocery store. I felt like I was going to get lost or end up somewhere and not really know how to get back, and now it has happened. I see a chubby guy with shaggy hair and scruff pushing a shopping cart. It is full of liters of light colored soda. I think I try to find my way back. I am with Melissa and Brooke now, outside and by some small, enclosed ticket taking booth inside which sits a middle aged woman. We have some receipt (from Sherwin Williams?) that we’re trying to use to go to the restaurant or food place that the tickets are for. We don’t have the actual ticket, but I’m thinking that this receipt will show that we have permission. I could see where the lady would think we’re being fraudulent, but we’re not. When she talks to us, Brooke’s replies are kind of snarky, even though this lady let us through. She’s actually been pretty nice, and probably doesn’t care if we do get to go.




I am in the living room at Dad’s. From my perspective, it looks like I could have just come in from the garage. I’ve walked into a scene of two police officers sitting on the floor and a large group of people standing around them. Dad may be here too, and I think the officers may be in plainclothes. They tell me they are here because of my social media rends/tendencies. I feel a pang of guilt in my stomach that is only amplified by the disappointed looks on every face. I am thinking that they’ve found me out and there’s nothing to do about it but accept it. I am slightly relieved when they tell me that they can’t do anything about it legally, But then I think that means the FBI has to get involved.