rshort1202
Lurker

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.