rshort1202
Member

I am with Melissa at Burning Man. I’m sure it is Burning Man, but it doesn’t really feel all that far away from anything. In fact, we seem to be right by a freeway overpass. It seems like we are among the first here. We are filtering into a small building or canvas tent with couch like seating. I watch everyone arrive, all in the same, generic Burning Man garb. I do notice a shorter guy with thick and curly brown hair wearing a Grateful Dead shirt. I think it’s brown or brown tie dye with a large print of ‘Bertha’ on it. I think that he might possibly be interesting to talk to or that it could just be a fashion statement. I then realize that no one is really doing anything except sitting around just like they could anywhere else. I wonder if this is it - to just come here to sit and watch everyone else do the same. We are now trying to leave; there are a few exits, but they are all also being used as entrances for a mass of people heading this way. We try to go against the grain bt it proves impossible so we submit to it and veer off to our left. This brings us much closer to the overpass. There are crowds everywhere, but I notice a bunch of arms sticking up in the crowd under the overpass, waving, beckoning us to go over there, as if they see us fighting the flow of people. So we oblige and go over there. Over there, the space between the ground and the overpass is much smaller, probably only big enough for a kid. In fact, that is who is under there. There are different sections, each with school aged kids (mostly girls?) sitting in a circle or just along the wall. In the middle of each group is an adult laying on their back, eyes closed. They are conducting some ‘alien experience’? and beckoning us to come try it. I’m uneasy from my first glance at it; it looks creepy and I don’t like it. I make a comment to Melissa about how creepy it is and how we’re not doing that.

I am with Melissa in what seems like a mountainous area. We are in a cabin type building that feels like it’s on the edge of a gorge or some precipice. There is some event going on just outside the other doors that I think we’re a little late to. There is a cabinet for us to put our phones in, I think because there are no photos allowed. I place mine among the others, all screen up, as well as my glasses case? I feel my keys in my pocket, but decide they’re fine since they’re clipped to a belt loop with a carabiner. We step outside now and there are quite a few people, maybe our age or younger, sitting around on the rocky and uneven ground. They are all wearing puffy grey/blue coats that seem to be uniform, possibly with the same logo or team name. I realize that this is some sort of outdoor survival challenge and that I am wildly unprepared and they obviously are not. Melissa is in regular clothes and I am in a tie dye Grateful Dead shirt. It now starts, I think with a race.

I am at the lake (Tahoe, I’m pretty sure) with some family, I think Granny and Mom and maybe Makayla. We are at a beach that is not sandy, but more rocks and pine needles. There is also a fair amount of trees coming down all the way to the waterline. I have some clothes that I think have just been washed, because they are still damp. I am looking for a clothesline or even a string, but I don’t find anything. Now I’m at work with either Melissa or Laynie, still looking for a clothesline. We can’t find one anywhere, until we ask Carolina. She takes us to a stockroom, it being the only place she can think of that would have one. Sure enough, we look to the right and I see some green lines hanging from a hook near the ceiling. I tug on one, not sure how to get it down. I flick it a bit, and it comes off the hook. They look somewhat surprised, and I joke about not knowing how I just did that. Though the line had reached near the top of the high ceiling, it is barely even a foot long as I am holding it up I’m just slightly disappointed. I guess I’ve settled though, as I’m back on the beach. I’m walking back to our spot and noticing towels and clothes simply draped over the lower tree branches. I think it occurs to me that I could’ve just done this, but I seem pretty set on the clothesline.

I am at work when I notice about three pre-teen/teen kids run out of one of the doors (*it looks like the kids doors at work). They all have merchandise and are wearing backpacks. I think I am seeing this on video, so I am able to zoom in really quick. After I decide that it does look bad, I hurry out there. I step outside and think I see them get into a bus or school bus. They are not really in a hurry and neither is the bus it seems. After a few moments, I head back inside and sit back down. Charmi is here, sitting down at the cameras also (it doesn’t really look like we’re in a camera room, but more out in the open). She’s talking about what just happened, suggesting that it could have been prevented if we were watching. I say that we were watching but that we can’t be seeing everything at all times. She just seems adamant and repeats herself. Scott now shows up and nonchalantly starts talking to me (and Laynie might be here?). Charmi looks up, sees him, looks a little shocked, but doesn’t say anything. Scott just pretends like she’s not here. Scott and I are now walking somewhere in the store - upstairs, I think. He is wearing a blue beret tilted slightly downwards and something else he wouldn’t usually wear. I notice him walking through the racks of clothes instead of on the main aisles. I wonder why for a second but then realize he’s trying not to be seen by associates.i get it, but also think it’s a little much.

I am with Mom in what looks like a small, one main road mountain town. Across the street, I notice a large group of skiers, apparently waiting for a bus. The bus appears but then passes them by. Confused, they try to flag it down. I survey their winter clothes, thinking they’re wearing too much. It doesn’t feel cold at all to me, but I guess it makes sense for when they’re actually skiing. I think about how it’s only the first day of September, so this has to be the very first snowfall and/or day of the season. We’re in one of these wooden cabin type buildings that looks pretty empty when I feel the ground shake softly but consistently. I’m certain it’s an earthquake and wait for it to happen again. It happens again, this time more intensely, so I make my way outside. I notice others coming outside, some looking panicked. Mom mentions how of course we’re in Portland, guiding my attention to the snow-covered mountain right above us. I see some watching the mountain to see if it’ll avalanche. I wonder what we would do if it did.