Journal #86

11/3: After a few scenes that didn't make any sense, like four months ago showing my grandma's house before she passed away nine months ago, everything picks up after a dentist's appointment (I don't really have one until three weeks later).

I am walking with a character down a hallway that looks like a cross between a backstage area from WWE Monday Night RAW, SmackDown! Live or Impact Wrestling and the hallway from a backdoor leading to an office, locker rooms and the backdoor of the gymnasium at Southeast Raleigh Magnet High--which, like certain young-adult fiction projects I've written--had arcade machines. The person I walk down the hall with is possibly Ashton Hobbs from Contestant 25, a young-adult fiction book series I'm currently working on and has taken me over 20 years -- September 1995 to be exact (I was 9 at the time) -- to get perfect.

The next scene makes no sense, and was like a scene from a typical TV sitcom or movie after a school bully/main antagonist has done enough damage. I then see a locker room where a possible student is coughing, stuffed in a locker. The character and I then exit the school where this redhead teen and what appears to be his parent or his mentor were parked in line one spot ahead of us smiling and waving at me before my alarm clock buzzes at 6:45 this morning. I, however, do remember an OC ReMix playing - a remix of the opening from the 1989 Commodore Amiga game Shadow of the Beast - one of the first OC ReMixes on the site since the site's introduction in 1999.

I wonder if I had gotten this dream last night after viewing the Wikipedia articles of Ross Powers and Kelly Slater on Wednesday on my Surface tablet that led to the image of the redhead teen at the end of the dream. However, if I view the Wikipedia article of James Lafferty, nothing happens dream-wise. I've also had some pretty strong dreams two months ago before my doctor's appointment and the finals of the U.S. Open, too, but it's probably too late.

I think this dream was trying to tell me to watch what I write sometimes, although I have never in my 21-year writing career (yes, again, 1995) written about bullies doing these horrible, unspeakable things like what was demonstrated in my dream last night.