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I’m with Laynie, and it’s like we’re at work, but right now we are on a street corner. There is a video monitor up on a pole, and I’m trying to pull back video on it. It ends up stopping on just someone’s feet, which we think is kind of funny. I briefly ponder the implications of leaving our recorded video playing for everyone to see. I think it’d be beneficial, but there’s no doubt someone would be offended. I now try to log out, pressing control, alt, and delete. We now cross the street and I see, on the other side of the street, a building that must be our work. It looks low and long, a glossy dark navy/grey, and more organic than not. I notice a sketchy seeming black lady who I think just got dropped off. She hesitates and then enters the building. I look over to Laynie, but she’s noticed her also. We enter the building but stall for a minute so as to give her just a little space initially. We’ve gone to the right and into a room that has a long, grey, ovular table (it may actually be a horseshoe shape, with empty space in the middle) with two men sitting towards the end. There is another video monitor, which I tap with a pen or something, just pretending to be doing something on it. The man seated facing more towards it sees this and chuckles, saying “kids.” I just laugh along with him and his limited perception, his not knowing what we’re really doing. We now enter the Sephora here and see the girl pretty much right away. She notices us also. We are not even near her or overtly watching her when she ends up by us, saying that she feels like she’s being watched. I reply quite lengthily, telling her that there are plenty of other people in here shopping that don’t feel like they’re being watched. I also tell her that I’ve been watched before while shopping but still bought what I was looking for, though I’m not sure that’s actually happened to me. She seems to understand, but still leaves without buying anything. I see her meet up with a white girl who also has a black purse. There is a sort of hallway or foyer between the Sephora and the glass doors to the outside. There’s then a small bit of pavement before a large, lush lawn. At the end of the pavement, they each throw a pair of shoes or sandals into a trashcan. I notice they’re both still wearing sandals, so I think they must’ve switched into new ones. I linger in the foyer and notice a black car parked in the shade of some trees near the top of the sloping lawn. The girls double back, but so have I, so that they see me walking past, but not overly suspiciously so.

I am inside what feels like a gas station, kind of like a Maverick. There is a rolling grill containing the typical gas station hot dogs. I look at the two or three different types and their prices. There is a good price for three of them, so I think I’ll do that. I sort of self consciously think about what I’d look like carrying around three hot dogs with toppings. I now put two each on their own stale looking bun. There’s a fluid that runs off onto the bun; they look terribly under done, but still I keep them. Now, Caitie comes out of nowhere and, apparently working here, asks to see my ID. I’m not sure if she’s joking or not but, as we walk up to the counter, find out that she isn’t. I pull out my ID and give it to her, noticing how long this blue counter is. We talk for a bit and I think she’s really scrutinizing the ID.

I am at work with Laynie. I’m not sure if I’m on cameras or out on the floor, but I notice a lady enter who I’m pretty sure has stolen before. I think she has a black backpack and a large, reusable shopping bag from somewhere else. I tell Laynie, and we start watching her. Almost immediately, it looks like she’s filled the bag with clothes. Two other blond girls, one about younger middle aged like her and one younger, now meet up with her. There are three fitting room stalls along the wall, and they each go into one. After a bit, the other two girls come out. The older one is holding the reusable shopping bag, but for some reason I disregard this. The first girl comes out, and Laynie and I go onto the floor. (It still looks like a retail store, but different than in reality). I’m not sure what we’re doing, since she doesn’t have the bag, but we follow her out. I think we then realize that the other girl had the bag. I end up going outside and following them to another store. This store looks like our hallway of kids shoes, but bigger. This girl has met up with an entire family, including younger girls and middle aged men. They all look very similar, even for a family. All are blond or slightly ginger. The two men look sort of aloof and dirty or druggy. It is a little creepy. The younger girl from earlier notices me, asking slightly aggressively “What are you doing here?” “I work here,” I tell her defensively. There is attention on me now, and I decide to tell them that I know they’re only here to shoplift and just need to leave. They actually give it up and head for the door. Though they didn’t fight it, I am shocked that an entire family does this so shamelessly. I follow them out and notice a black car with its window down, the reusable bag sitting on the seat. I now start getting aggressive, cursing at the lady while demanding that she give the merchandise back. She only slightly resists, but I do not give, and she ends up taking it out. I think I mentioned that I could just call the cops, which gets her to change her attitude a bit. I think about snapchatting this humorous scene, but don’t.

I think I am at work. Yasuko is massaging my back. The massage is deep and she uses a lot of pressure, but it is not uncomfortable. In fact, it is greatly relaxing. She seems to have done it randomly and nonchalantly, but when she is done my body feels better and more flexible.

I am upstairs at work. There is a group of three to four white teenage (or younger?) boys by the Levi jeans that have selected a bunch of clothes quickly. I think they may also have a bag, maybe a sports bag from here? that they’re putting it all into. I think Scott is downstairs and talking to me over the radio. I am over by the boys and I think it makes them leave, leaving everything behind. I start looking through the clothes in the bag, and I only find one empty hanger. I’m not sure what we’re doing exactly, but at least they didn’t get anything, besides possibly one shirt.

I am going on a road trip with Brittney and I think Melissa also. I think that wherever we are going is around eight hours away. I think Brittney is going to drive the whole way, though I think about offering to help since we drive the same car. There is a sense of this being last minute, but not negatively so. Somewhere along the way we stop at a Jack in the Box? I order a number seven - some kind of cheeseburger. I think I initially said small, but the employee asks what size. I start to say large, but he remembers I said small, and it somehow gets brought to medium. Now we are waiting quite a while for our food to come out.




I’m in what feels like the backseat of a car, sitting next to Melissa. I think Brooke and someone else are in the front seats (Brooke in the passenger seat), which seem way too close. Melissa has taken my penis out and is playing with it, I think going down on it once. A flight attendant? squeezes past in front of us, and I put my leg up, trying to hide the hardness against it.

I am in some room, maybe a kitchen, in a house or building that seems to be by a beach, probably on the ocean. The place is dim and seems to be empty, except for Dad, who is here celebrating his birthday. There is no one here, so I assume it is just too early for them to be showing up. He shows me a little machine on the counter top that has a few tap handles. There is what looks like a thin, green hose. On it is a circular piece with an indentation (like one for a screwdriver), which corresponds to a piece on the machine. Once inserted, it can be turned and creates a sound like it is adding carbonation or something similar. It also allows the beer to come out. I look at the options and choose a witbier. I pour it into my Artown cup at a 45 degree angle. It seems to pour quickly, but doesn’t produce much head. I take a sip and it is pretty tasty. I look at the other options, two being home brew?, one IPA, and a Revision IPA with a pretty cool graphic (space?). I think the others are more eclectic, constituting a pretty decent selection for so few handles. I think I am going to go sit outside.




I am seeing a video of Dad at some circular bar counter that looks to be encircling a pool. The whole thing is not very big, but it looks pretty cool. I think we’re supposed to be on a family trip and he’s already there without us. I then see a filter or location on the video that says he’s only at an airport (in Vegas?). Now I am where I think we are going, I think with Makayla. The place is a fairly large and high ceilinged room with a large, rectangle pool in the center. Along the walls around it are what look like doors to hotel rooms. We start looking for one that’s open. You can’t really tell what’s locked or not by looking at it, and I feel weird trying all the door knobs. It seems like most are locked. I get towards the end of the row and hear movement behind one of the doors. The very last door then opens, and coming out of it is a boy probably in his late teens, with long and center parted dirty blond hair, wearing only what looks like boxers or small swim trunks. I assume he is about to swim. I consider asking him to see the inside of the room, but think it’d be a little too intrusive.




I am with Sage and her old friend Sierra Fiester in some large room with a bouldering wall. The bouldering wall is not too long, but it is pretty tall and slightly overhanging. I am attempting a problem and its big move. There is a thin crash pad on the ground that I have them move, since it is not where I’d need it if I were to fall. I ready myself for the big move out right, but never commit, afraid to fall. I end up just using different holds to climb to the top, a little disappointed in myself. I still try to make it harder, with big moves and small holds, including small crimps. I use a large half-moon shaped hold (the one from Rocksport and Basecamp), I think getting a hand or two and a heel on it at one point. I am making loud vocalizations of effort at each move.

I am sitting alone on some flight of large stone steps that lead down to a body of water. I’ve brought some food so I can sit down and eat it. I’m not sure if I’ve come down here to be alone or to possibly talk to some others. I think there are some others down here.

I am walking around downtown, and there seems to be an event going on. I walk into a smaller coffee shop, right behind a group of three girls about my age. They sort of spilt up in the line, so that I am in front of one of them. She is talking sort of excitedly about how she is going to get something with eight shots, as if her caffeine tolerance is just really high. I think one of the others orders and then they try to get me to go. I politely decline, asking if they’re sure, since I thought they got here first. They coax me into going, so I step up to the wooden counter. The barista is kind and friendly, with dirty blond/brown hair and tan skin; she seems familiar from somewhere. I ask for an iced Americano with five shots instead of the four I think it usually comes with. She says she’s already got one started, holding out a larger sized cup that’s full, too full for my preference, of ice. When the finished drink comes out, I take it over to a wooden bench along the wall opposite the building’s front wall and window. The evening light shines golden, drenching the place in a peaceful, languid haze. There are a few others sitting around, quietly keeping to themselves. There is a very laid back vibe, either caused by or enhanced by the lighting. I notice the girl who wanted eight shots is seated to my left, sitting lengthwise with the bench, her knees bent and feet up. She is wearing shorter black athletic shorts and is on her phone. She has two smaller bags on the bench, one placed on top of the other. They start to tilt and then the top one completely falls off, taking the other partially with it. I try but fail to get her attention. Now, I consider trying to talk to her or the other two also, but I don’t really want to bother them, as they don’t need anyone to talk to. I’m not sure what I’m going to do now, except maybe sit here for a while.

I am camping at Frenchmans with Melissa and I think one other. We are sitting around the fire pit, and there’s quite a bit of stuff set up around it, like we’re here for a while or just well prepared. I’m not sure if there’s a fire going or not. It seems to be dusk or nearing dark. I think I’m going to start the fire now. I put down some paper materials for starters, but then I can’t find any wood. I bring it up to Melissa, and she has a brief look of realization. She says she forgot to bring it. I’m not sure what to do, then Melissa says she saw some in the trailer. That does sound right, so I go to check. The trailer feels more like a big car, but still partially like a trailer. I climb in and onto what seems to be the back seats. It seems more like a bed, a bed that could fit about two. It seems kinda comfy, and I think about sleeping with Melissa in here instead. I find the firewood and it is all on top of two folded down seats, shaped almost like it is serving as the seats instead. I wonder if I should really be taking any if it is serving a purpose here. I think that most likely Opa placed it like this. I end up pulling a few pieces out, most smaller but one longer. The wood is darker in color, thin, and not very heavy.




I am at work, going back on video to look for something, when I inadvertently see two guys arbitrarily grabbing Levis like they’re going to do a grab and run. I notice that one is wearing a backpack. Now I am out on the floor and right by them. I think just my walking by is enough to get them to drop the merchandise. They go over by men’s shoes and I think out an emergency exit door that’s open. Another man is standing by the door, sort of like a look out. He is wearing a white rabbit mask. It looks like a plain and rudimentary mask with just a strap on the backside, yet the effect is somewhat unnerving and intimidating. I don’t exactly want to go over there. I call Scott over the radio to see if he’s seeing this. From the way he says no, I assume he was not watching all along. I assume he’s pulling it up on camera now.

I am meeting Melissa at some tap house. I walk in and survey the place, as it is new to me. It is a long building and somewhat dim. The bar counter stretches along the wall to my left; there are tables along the (brick?) wall to my right. The place feels casual and homey. Before I can get much further, I notice Melissa to my right, seated facing towards me at the first table in. We meet up and then I go up to the counter. The man behind it seems friendly and patient with me taking my time to choose something. I’m deciding between a light lager and a ‘sweet red ale’, both of which I think are from familiar breweries. I think the red is supposed to be like a Flanders red, so I go with that one. It comes out in a chalice like pint glass that looks a little frosty. The beer is a deep, dingy red/maroon. I taste it, and it is indeed sweet, almost cloyingly, but not quite. It is unique.

I have stopped into work on what feels like my day off. It doesn’t really look like work - it has more of a warehouse feel. I feel like I am on the second level when I see a man stashing a ton of Levis. He sees me looking at him, which seems to make him nervous. He has a pile stashed in a fitting room; I wait until he walks out and then lock and close the door to the stall so he can’t get to them and so I can put them in as a recovery later. Now, I think there is a woman that is with him. They are gone a moment later, and it looks like some of the Levis are missing. If they got them, they got a ton, because the stash was a huge stack or two. I’m now in what feels like the men’s department, the only difference being that the entire floor is empty. There aren’t even shelves. The floor looks like concrete, and the walls are either concrete or drywall. I think there are a few associates here, and they seem to notice the state of the place, at least somewhat. It seems like they don’t care much or are accustomed to it.

I think I am outside? when I realize that I had a haircut appointment on the second of July that I completely forgot to go to. I briefly see my calendar (at Dad’s?) and see it written on the second, along with the other stuff I’m doing this month. I think I missed it because that’s when we were in Portland, but it’s still hard for me to believe that I’d just miss an appointment. I realize that it’s been a week or so since the second. I consider texting her but am not sure if she’d even still want my business. Now I am considering growing my hair out. Dad is brushing his fingers through it, telling me that it naturally parts in the middle. I think Mom and Makayla also express that they like it longer, a bit excited at the prospect. I think about what it was like long, weighing the pros and cons. It’s already getting a bit long, so I think I decide I’m going to grow it out.

I am at work. It seems very dark, like all the lights are out or the power is out. There is a known shoplifter (the girl from yesterday who crammed clothes in a purse and went out the salon doors) who I think is coming out of a fitting room and/or heading for a door. I notice that she has a newer looking backpack with brighter colored stripes. I assume there is stolen merchandise in it, so I go up to her and tell her to just get it all out of there. She insists that she doesn’t have anything. She holds out a green toothbrush and she’s saying she got either it or the backpack from Walmart. *Right at this point I am awakened by Melissa and her alarm.

I am walking along the sidewalk through what seems like midtown closer to downtown, I think on my way to work. There is a brick building that appears to be a neat looking bookstore through the window. I decide to go in. Inside, it seems like mostly a large, square area with tall, wooden bookshelves. Many books seem to be facing out, their covers on display. I’m surprised and delighted by the selection of books about dreams, spirituality, etc. I am also holding a book that I think I’m returning. I make my way to the counter to wait. The apparent manager is an older middle aged lady that is currently talking with another woman or two. She gives the impression of being very kind and homey. She also has not noticed me or has disregarded me, but I find it hard to fault her as she seems to be in an engaged conversation with the other two. I check my phone for the time (:55?) and know I have to get going. I think I’ll have to come back sometime later.