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I am on a road trip with Dad and Makayla, with Dad driving. We are going to Texas, and I see that we’re currently driving through a corner of Utah. It is like I am seeing a satellite map of a moment, and I notice that there is snowfall on the ground right above where we are and will be travelling. It zooms and pans to the right a bit. We pass by many lakes in a short amount of time. They are all fairly small, but they are beautiful. The water is clear enough to see the bottom of an entire lake as well as all the light colored and large rocks within.




I am in a store with Sage when I grab off of a shelf at about eye level a bottle of Lagunitas beer. I think I had been looking for it and am excited to have found it. I tell Sage how good it is as I open it up. I grab a glass from the shelf and pour the beer fairly vigorously into it, producing only a small, snow white head. The beer has the appearance of carbonated white grape juice and smells of the same. I take a sip and it is good. I pronounce Lagunitas funny and kind of laugh about it. Now, I am parking on the side of a residential street behind another car. Dad is on the lawn of this front/side yard, faced away from me; I have come to meet up with him. I think I have brought the full glass and the remainder in the bottle, each in a cup holder. I get out and start talking with him. I ask if he’d be offended if I just stayed at Mom’s while I’m going to school. He hesitates, almost as if taken aback, and then replies, “no, of course not.” He says I can do whatever I need to focus on school. I notice we’re under a large oak? tree that splits near the bottom. I’m now in the house here (Dad’s?), I think with Mom and Makayla. There is indication of past activity, though no one is currently here. There are two boxes of Panda Express open on the counter, each with a glass of white wine sitting too near the edge. I notice about five of the Lagunitas beers, all opened and partially finished. It makes me a little mad because he all of them without asking

I am with Melissa in Virginia City at a brewpub or something similar. We’ve parked along the side of the road and it seemed like more of a steep incline, like the road around Tahoe. We walk up and take seats at the counter. The waitress seems a little younger, nice, and laid back. I look at the beer menu and the double door beer fridge. The fridge seems to have a better selection, and I decide on picking something from it. An older lady walks up to it and grabs a Black Butte Porter. I notice a ceramic, 11oz bottle of Delirium Tremens. I also notice, at the very bottom, what looks like ceramic, 2 L sized containers of Delirium on their sides. I wonder the price of each and then go grab one of the small bottles. I sit back down and think we’re going to order food also. The waitress is talking about something going on, but has to explain it because it’s our first time here. I now pour my beer into a regular pint glass. I realize it is not Delirium Tremens, but rather Delirium ‘Trem’ or ‘Tremen’, which I assume is a different style of beer from the same brewery. I think it is a saison. It is a very nice hazy light orange, and it tastes very good. I notice that Melissa has a tulip shaped glass with a little bit of water in it; I think about stealing it to use instead of the regular pint glass. I also think this beer is closer to 4% than the 8% of the Tremens. I think about being responsible since I’m driving, but I also think about how it’s nice up here and how we could just not worry about going back and go to a few more places.




I’m driving to Carson City, and the freeway seems more straight ahead and lower in elevation. It is sunset, and the sunset is beautiful. The clouds are thick and heavy and dark, full of dark orange and red and spots of purple. I see the backyards of houses to my right. I know they’re close to the freeway, but they still seem nice. The yards are small and close together, most with a good assortment of trees, some with string lights. I think about living out here since it’s smaller, thinking the drive might be worth it if I worked out south and/or mainly stayed out here. I think that it would be closer to Tahoe.

I am at a tap house or something similar, deciding between a few options. I either decide on a stout or the female bartender just pours one for me. It comes in a small looking glass, almost pitch black. I try it and it is pretty good, not amazing, but enough to remind me of my appreciation for stouts.

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 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 am what I think is LeadDog with Dad (I’ve never been there, but in the dream this fairly nondescript and small outdoor seating is LeadDog). We’re sitting at a small, wire, circular table close to the wall. I think we might be with one other also. A waitress comes over for drink orders. Dad goes ahead, and I feel like I haven’t really had enough time, but I just ask for the IPA. I think we’ve gotten food also, and it comes out before the drinks. When the drinks finally do come, I receive a pint glass only about ¼ full. Dad’s is not much fuller. The beer is sort of a nice looking hazy orange, but I can’t believe how empty the glass is. I am turned off by the poor service and think about leaving a bad review. Now, Dad has left me and wandered off inside. After a while, I look for him. Through the window I see him with some tan guy about his age in a tank top cut off at the shoulders. Their arms are over a stool like they are going to arm wrestle, but they’re both holding a stein of beer. I guess the objective is to see who can hold it longer. They seem to struggle, though they’re only 0.5 liter steins. I go inside and the atmosphere seems a little better.

(fragment) I am outside and walking along a thin dirt trail. It descends a short but steep incline, crosses what looks like a thin dry creek, and then ascends another hill. There is a lady coming down the incline opposite me. She stops and makes sure no one is coming before she crosses the dry creek. I see her do this and give her a thumbs up to let her know she’s clear. She then passes me and makes a rude, unjust comment about me doing that for her. Angry, I aggressively cuss her out. I don’t get why she would get angry over my doing that.



(fragment) I am in a store and debating buying a book. It is a slender book of current need-to-know beers written by a woman. It seems too short, but I think it could be a good addition to my collection, especially since the small, yellowish sticker on it informs me that it’s only $1. I think I start off but then go back for it

I am at the Alibi brewery with Melissa. It looks mostly different though - the bar area is smaller and seems shorter, with seating at the counter. It faces the chalkboard tap list and wraps around the end at a 90 degree angle, which is where we sit. It is not very crowded, but there is a fair amount of people, probably right before it gets busy. It is dim and laid back. Right away, a blond girl in her early 20s comes over to get our drink orders. Naturally, Melissa wants a water. She then looks to me, but I haven’t had enough time to choose a beer. I know there is one that I want, but I can’t think of the name. I say “uh…” while looking at the list, hoping she’ll help me out a little. Instead, she just says something like “wow, you do hate me/why do you hate me?” It could’ve been a playful joke, but with the way she said it, it came off as serious. She leaves and them comes back later for a food order. Melissa gets chicken strips. I’m still pretty turned off by the girl’s comment, so I don’t think I get anything, and she doesn’t seem to care anyway. Melissa now has her chicken strips, and they have brought me a beer. It’s only about ¼ full. I sip it, and it is the one I was thinking of (it tastes like some German style, maybe a doppelbock?) and tastes good. I just can’t really believe they served it that empty, so I snapchat it to Brittney. The bill is $40, $20 a person I figure. I want to tip her absolutely nothing, and I don’t think it would be unjustified. I consider writing her a note on the receipt as well.

I am in the garage of some unfamiliar house. I have just come down here, and I notice that it’s fairly cluttered and dim (it almost looks like/feels like it could be very late at night). I notice some empty beer bottles here and there and Dad standing by a fridge. He sees me, is silent for a moment, then starts uncontrollably giggling. He is also by a case of Vienna Lagers. There’s a palpable sadness at observing him like this at this hour. (There was also a blue armchair that I assumed he sat in down here).

I am at some small event in some smaller event room. There are people from work here as well as Sage and maybe her boyfriend. I have come here with Makayla; I think it is somewhere in California. Makayla calls Mom to ask if we can stay here for dinner. I say, mostly to myself since she’s on the phone, that Mom could throw us a 20 and it would help. Mom says yes, inciting a subdued bout of excitement. I envision taking an Uber back just as a humorous scenario, mentally gawking at what it would cost if they even go that far. I am seated now, at the end of one of two tables that abuts the other. Against the wall and on smaller display tables are the beers on tap. Each actually looks like its own little machine - they range in appearance from slushee machines to small drink vending machines, etc, each with their own design for the beer within. Evelyn from work is looking at them all, very closely. I wasn’t going to go up and look at them alone, so I take this opportunity. There are some fairly good options, but nothing amazing. I think I see the Sierra Nevada Torpedo. I think there is a porter and a hefeweizen, the hefe in what looks like a pineapple yellow pina colada machine. I think its name is slightly off - actually Heineken or something? I think I decide to pass on it because it seems like a bad imitation of the style. I think I end up with a glass of the Torpedo. I’m now seated again, across from Sage and maybe her boyfriend. The apparent host, a petite, bald, bespectacled man wearing a white apron around his waist, is coming around and jovially making sure everything and everyone is okay. Everyone seems to be uplifted by this quaint man’s demeanor. He takes Sage’s order, which is ‘spare pork’. I now see a plate of it in front of her, three or four generously sized slices of pork. He looks at me now, and I want the same thing, but ‘spare pork’ sounds wrong, so I say instead ‘the same thing’. I notice my drink is a few sips away from being empty. I want to order another while I have the service available, but I also don’t want to ask for more while I still have some.




I am working a wedding. I am standing outside and near the entrance gate to what seems to be a large, upscale country club. Everything seems spread out, showcasing the grassy, and in places marshy, land. It seems like a pleasant day. I am holding a fairly big gift bag - it is for the couple whom I just saw but now cannot find. I feel sort of out of place. I want to get this gift to them, but guests keep showing up, expecting me to direct them. A lifted, impossibly white truck approaches; the driver is impeccably clean cut and dressed in an effortlessly classy and flattering suit. Through his open window, he tells me that he likes my shoes. They are my new ones (that I bought at work). I’m also wearing dress pants and a tucked dress shirt. He now asks me where the ‘halfway point’ is, and I hesitate. He asks again, kind of snootily, as if I should know right away. It makes me feel kind of stupid. I then recall an image of a white line on some asphalt, so I tell the man to continue on and he will see the halfway point marked with a white line, gesturing with my hands. To my left, I see the asphalt walkway meandering through and then becoming obscured by some tall grasses. I see men in suits walking with girls in dresses, all pastel colors, and it is idyllic. I now start walking, but I am not on any walkway. The ground is marshy; my feet start to sink enough to get the tops of my shoes wet. Beth has apparently been watching me and asks what I’m doing. I inwardly agree with her sentiment and start to come back. I still want to give them this gift though, so I start again, though this time I seem to be holding onto some kind of ledge and traversing with my feet also on some small lip of something more solid than the marsh. It all seems cramped and small and obscured by the foliage. *It is as I’m doing this that I hear my alarm go off.




Mom is in my room and has apparently been going through my stuff, as she is holding up what’s left of a joint in a plastic bag that was hidden in my laundry basket. She seems really upset, mad, or disappointed. I’m not sure why; it’s really not that big of a deal to me. She’s also holding some new clothes she got for me. There are some tank tops on hangers and some red and blue underwear that look more like Speedos. I take them and hang them in the closet; they are a tight fit. I think I’m getting ready to go to class or work.




I am in the bathroom with Melissa. I am naked at least from the waist down, and using some hair removal cream? on my pubic region. For whatever reason, I start rubbing it on my lower legs, until it starts to feel like there’s less hair (I didn’t intend to remove the hair on my legs). I tell Melissa I just accidentally removed all my leg hair and she doesn’t believe me. I rub my legs, feeling only skin and stubble.

I am about to go to a party with Amy, Blake, Salina, etc. Melissa is with me right now, and I think we’re at Dad’s. We go into the garage to pick a few beers from a case (*they look like the Lost Coast ones). While we’re getting ready/are ready, a dark SUV pulls into the driveway. The people about our age in it are dressed up like it’s Halloween and are coming back from this party like it’s already over. One of the guys seems a little too intoxicated. We stop and talk with them for a little. Now I’m thinking about the possibility of them offering weed at the party. I consider if I’d accept or not and how much, if any, I’d mix with drinking.




I’m in a bedroom, writing down either the notes for a dream I’ve remembered or the dream itself. Dad and Scottie are in here too. Scottie is awkwardly watching me, seemingly amazed. It’s kind of annoying, and I think about going to a different room.

Something about Sam and some guy. Sam and this less-than-quality guy are hooking up or dating or otherwise getting together at some level other than friends. I think all of us, and Brittney?, are outside. Sam and the boy go up in the hills. He has blond hair and a typical ‘fuck boy’ style. I think he is also up to no good.




I am at Beer NV with Melissa, Brooke, and I think one other. It looks almost entirely different though, looking more like a restaurant, with different sections of tables. The energy is more subdued as well, feeling like a lazy afternoon. I have sat at the table in the midst of their playing a game that consists of a coaster sized circle piece with dots in equal increments around its perimeter. The players are supposed to connect the dots by choosing a person in the spot that correlates with the dot. The person or the connection of the dots is based on how many siblings the chosen person has? The connections then become edges along which this circle is cut, creating a new shape. (The object may be to produce a certain new shape?) On my turn, I pick Brooke. They ask ‘you think?’, mostly rhetorically but partially seriously, as they have already tried choosing Brooke but are also running out of possible solutions. Now, everyone here is playing a new (trivia?) game. An employee (Deborah?) is coming around, checking for people using their phones. I am on my phone, but I’m only checking the tap list on Digital Pour. I lock the screen and lay it on the table, seeing no need to worry about it being out if I’m really not cheating. I think about how I didn’t know they do this many games here. I now think I’m ready for another beer, feeling fine to drive, and alternate between the menu on my phone and the physical menu just within reading distance, up on the wall. The hanging chalkboard? is quite large, though the writing is small. It hangs above a rectangular table that is behind the bar counter, which is also fairly large. Two men, one old, sit at this table. Nobody else is going up to the counter, but I think it is still okay to do so. I now have a glass of beer, but I am outside with Dad and Melissa. It looks like the old house’s backyard. Dad starts talking to us. He has a few more sips of a dark beer in the glass in his hand (a nonic pint type) and the indication of more than a few sips past in his eyes and speech. This beer is a contrast to mine, which looks to be blood orange. Dad ends up showing us pictures on his phone, his age betrayed by how he holds it and swipes through pictures. One of the pictures is of Dad standing and smiling with a younger blond lady. The next picture is that same girl and one other, seated on a bench on either side of Dad, their shirts held open, small tits exposed and nipples censored (by some overlay/exposure or addition to the photo). I almost think he’s going to realize he didn’t mean to show us this one, but he leaves it up and starts giggling unabashedly. I’m not sure what to do other than laugh along at the entire situation.

I’m in some fairly upscale restaurant with Mom. it sort of looks like the Atlantis buffet. We walk up to a counter. There’s a server, white, probably late 20’s, in all white, a chef’s hat too, I think, what comes up to greet us. Mom says something about a drink - beer or wine?- and I get concerned for a second. She specifies to him “Clausthaler”, and he pours one. There is also dessert - I think for us. The man is putting pieces of cake on separate plates, focusing on an appealing display.

I am going to go to Beer NV with Brittney and a group of her friends and I think also to celebrate Makayla’s birthday. I’m in the process of walking to the car with Makayla outside of Dad’s house when I realize I haven’t gotten anything. Now I am at Beer NV (Makayla’s not here). It is smaller and almost seems more like a converted house. The tap list is on a smaller screen, and each has a thumbnail picture to go with it (*not pictures of the brewer’s logo or the beer’s logo like in reality). I notice Brittney and Chris, though there may be others. I end up with two beers, I think the second coming after my first is close to empty. The first is a beer dark golden in color but milk stout in taste. It’s smooth and tasty. The next beer is a juicy/hazy IPA, and it is in a small milk carton. There’s a glass with a sip of orange juice left in it; I get the idea that combining them might result in something tasty. Now we are going to go somewhere for a bit, so I get the idea to put this carton in the fridge before we leave (not sure if I actually do). When we return, I walk up to the couple-seat counter, from behind which the owner greets me. I ask for the beer with the picture of the band, saying I can’t see which it is from here. He grins and says the band name (something both Irish and punk sounding, starting with an L). He’s saying that it’s pretty strong, as if I wouldn’t like it. I tell him I’m fine with that, and it’s almost like he doesn’t believe me, but he still pours it. It is in a simple and smaller glass stein. I finish it fairly quickly (it tastes like the Brewer’s Cabinet scotch ale) and go back for another. Now everyone is trying to leave to go out someplace else. I think they’re going to be drinking there too. I close the tab and see the total on the receipt as $96 (or $98). I think it should not be that high, going over what’s on it. I’m not sure how much to tip either. I think I now leave with both copies of thee receipt. I think I’ll need to bring it back and also leave my phone number on it for rewards

I am in some building that feels like maybe a school or somewhere with some offices in the back. I’m waiting in the wood paneled hallway, waiting for the man inside the office to finish up with someone. The other person leaves, inciting a silence to take over. I peek my head through the doorway and see the man focused on some work on his desk. I really hate to interrupt this, but I slowly enter and ask if he has a moment. He says yes and waits kindly for me to talk. I slowly tell Bill Kreutzmann, addressing him by his first name, “thank you.” He seems to get rather emotional, and tears appear in his eyes. This causes me to become a little emotional as well. He tells me that means so much to him and that no one’s ever told him that before. I try to lighten it up a bit by saying something like ‘thank you for just fuckin’ playing the drums in a band that means a lot to me.’ We talk a bit more, and I end up leaving here with him. We approach a car, his, in the lot, where another man asks Bill about me. Bill says I’m fine, the other man nods, says I’m ‘in’. Bill now drives us, me in the back, to some type of shopping center. I’m out of the car with the door still open when Bill comes over, and I ask jokingly if I’ll need any of these, gesturing to three Grateful Dead shirts laid out on the bench style seat (and a backpack of mine - the backpack I had in middle school?) He chuckles and says no. I mention how I have the three, the first with ‘Grateful Dead’ in a large font, the second a tie dye, and the third a grey one (thinking of the grey one I have with the skull and glasses). We now walk into a building here. Once inside, I lose track of Bill and the other man. There’s quite a few people walking around in here. I awkwardly start walking around, until a man by a doorway gestures to me, seemingly knowing what I’m looking for. I go through the doorway, and it is now clear why we’re here. This large living room sized room has a stage at the far wall. The drum set takes up a large portion of it (maybe a quarter of the stage, though it’s centered). There are a few rows of picnic styled tables here. The lighting is dim and blueish. I deduce that Bill is going to be playing with a band here tonight. I think that it’s a weekday and I hadn’t planned on being out late, but I’m fine with it. The few tables are mostly full, but I look for a spot, doubling back once. I then find a spot at the end of one closer to the door and have a seat. A girl (someone I knew from high school?) has her knees on the bench and the rest of her body bent over the top of the table. She then slides back down, leaving less room by me. I look amongst those seated and notice Ian and some other familiar faces from high school. They’re singing “god don’t play dice with the universe” with a sort of subtle communal fervor. It irritates me that these ‘cooler’ kids are capitalizing on something that a less popular person, like myself, genuinely likes. Now, I (and maybe 1-2 others) am lying on the ground in front of the stage. The stage seems very tall from down here. The ground seems very soft, more like carpet or grass. I am flat on my back, with my eyes closed. I think I am paying attention to sensory input and getting slight OBE feelings/perceptions.




I’ve gone into some store with Melissa. I’m not sure if this building is standing alone or entered into from another building. The place seems to sell only craft beers as well as wine. I look all over for a certain beer (Moonraker?) but do not see it anywhere. I think I ask someone, and he doesn’t see any either. I think I’ll just pick up two six packs that were on sale, something like 2 for $6, because it’s a good price. I go to grab it and can’t find it. I look all over again and still don’t see it, so I just grab a Hop Valley IPA that’s the same deal. The cans look like pints and are grey with a fairly plain label.