rshort1202
Member

I am flying, rising up through the air. There are two others with me (I’m not sure if they’re unfamiliar or if I can’t remember what they are), the three of us in a triangular formation. I notice that we are very close to a huge, impossibly tall pine tree. I also hear the lyrics to ‘Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys’ playing in the background: “If you had just a minute to breathe and they granted you one final wish, would you ask for something like another chance?” This really gets to me; I think about it and listen to my heart, saying ‘yes’. The others do not, and I veer away from them, up and to the right. With some effort and vigor, I rise higher. I notice the ground far below, a patchwork of green and brown. I am falling back down now and land way less forcefully than I expected.

I’m at what I think is work. The area looks like a large garage or warehouse or combination of the two. It’s somewhat dim, though there are two large doors open. I’m sitting in a chair and trying to hide an erection by raising my right leg and resting its ankle on the other leg’s knee and holding a pair of pajama pants as casually as I can over it. I think it may be out of my underwear at one point. Now, Beth (from JCP) walks in and starts talking to me, I think about her car. She looks slightly different than I remember. Now I’m in what must be the store. There are fairly tall and crowded bookcases. There is a corner that I think no one ever goes into, so I head over there to change or touch myself? I then remember and worry about the fact that there is a mirror over this section. Before I can do anything, someone calls my name, and I come over to him. We are now outside of this warehouse. There is a smaller building at the end of this concrete lot; I go over to it because I think it has a bathroom. I’m bringing the flannel pajama pants so I can change. Before I get to the door, someone stops me again. I’m glad he does: I look through the gap between the door and door frame and see a man with a gun. He is muscular, with short hair and beard. He grips the silver pistol with both hands, it poised and ready. I have the feeling he’s looking for someone else, but still I don’t want to be in his way. I also see into the bathroom. It is mostly barren concrete with what looks like a pit toilet. The base of the toilet looks slightly filthy. This open door is motley blocking this little corridor and I’m glad at the little protection it affords. This guy seems to be going back and forth with another armed man on the other side of this small, square building. Me and this other guy by me do so for a while too, not wanting to get caught in the middle. I now take an opportunity and dash away from the building. The two men come out from the corridor spaces into the open and begin firing at each other. The bullets travel slow enough for me to track them but fast enough that I imagine they’d still cause harm. Each misses the other a few times. They are conversing during this; the first mentions how he was already shot and died? There is a sense that I did not have to run away from my spot and that it actually would’ve been better had I not. I feel ashamed at my cowardice.

I’m in my car with Melissa, driving us somewhere. I think I need gas, so she tells me where to go. She tells me to go left through this roundabout and then to take a right, and I do so. I notice a car coming to the roundabout and think it’s not going to yield to me because everyone assumes no one will take the second exit. Indeed it doesn’t, speeding in front of me. I’m driving down a hill now. The area is very green, with many leafy trees and a large grass area. There’s a large pond in the grassy area. We are now swimming in it, and the surrounding area doesn’t seem as green anymore. A few people in kayaks pass us, too closely I think, and say not to fish/swim in here, humorously. I jokingly say we won’t. I think he meant not to submerge ourselves, which, looking at the murky water, I’m not going to do anyway. We’re out now and on the sandy shore. I’m laying face down on either a towel or my shirt so I can dry off.




I’m on my bed with Melissa and I think we’re each doing something separately. On my record player I am listening to a Brokedown Palace from 1972. Bobby is telling the crowd to shut up and says “oh, I don’t wanna sing” to the melody of the song. I chuckle at the historical interest of it, and Melissa makes a comment too. Now I go out to see if the air is on. I think it’s been running all night, same as the water. We also watch an animated movie with a twist ending or something that suggests a sequel.
*Last night I meant to turn the water off but kept forgetting.

I’m in a car with Mom and Makayla, I think with Mom driving. We are in or near downtown. I am in the backseat and currently looking behind us as what looks like a large flame bursts through a window in the GSR. I can’t believe it, and I take my phone out so I can get it on video. I think there is another fiery burst towards the top, and then the building appears to slowly collapse. We are a ways away and driving straight away from it, but the dust cloud slowly engulfs the street and everything else not too far from us. I tell Makayla (maybe she was driving the whole time) she might want to step on it a bit. It almost seems like no one else knows what’s going on. Now, I’m in the GSR and I don’t think there’s any damage. I don’t get how this could be.

I am in Germany with Mom and Makayla. The first place we go to is a small, unassuming office building. Inside, it looks more like a home that has been converted to an office space. It is a perfect blend of the two. For a short period of time, Makayla and I can’t find Mom. At one point, I see her with a glass of non-alcoholic beer with a few sips missing. Part of me thinks ‘Already?’ There are two German ladies here. They are short and squat, older and very friendly. They speak English with a faint German accent. They work here but do not come off as an ‘employee’, eradicating any ‘us vs. them’ and promoting a genuine sense of helpfulness. The music that is playing here is odd and definitely nothing I’ve ever heard in any office building. It’s fairly loud, a slow and melancholy beat with droning female vocals. Through a window, I see that it is overcast out. One of the ladies says they should do something when it lightens up, gesturing as if she’s parting clouds. Now, I am outside with a different lady. We are sitting on a rocky shore against what must be the ocean. As I sit and observe the scenery and feel the perfect temperature, I am overcome with both grief and something close to euphoria, knowing that this is where I belong and that I’ll have to leave. I think I almost start tearing up. The scenery is rocky, but of soft soil and greenery where it is not. The ocean is calm and dampens the temperature to what I would call perfect. I talk to this lady as a small, wooden pallet drifts this way. There are a few seagulls on it that seem to be steering it. It becomes overcast. I think part of me is aware that Germany is not an island. The lady is showing me a map, pointing us out (a clear island), and showing how close we are to the very southern end of the ‘Hawaiian archipelago.’ There is a succession of maybe ten or so tiny islands to the North until I see the familiar cluster of Hawaiian islands. The rest of the map looks like a bunch of green islands close together on the deep blue of the ocean. She is now showing me where I’ll be staying. The house is two stories, wooden, and facing the ocean. It looks like the entire second story has a deck; we’re walking on it now. We see into one of the rooms, and she is nonchalant, but I’m not sure I like what I see. Looking down into the plain room, I see what looks like a dog bed. On it is a dog collar and some rod-like object. The unsettling part is that I think this is for a human )a captive?). Along the wall to the left there is an open cabinet. Attached to its door are about three black sheathes with different knives. I am disturbed because I thought Germany would be completely pleasant and not at all like this.




I’m outside somewhere that looks similar to Midtown, but I think more residential. From a third person perspective I am watching Donald Trump and his advisor jogging. It seems his ‘advisor’ is trying to keep up with him. Now, I am jogging with them. His pace is fast, and I think of his old age. We turn a corner and head down a straight away. For some reason I imagine someone attempting assassination and how it’d be easy right here; I don’t think he currently has any protection. Now, I am home (the house seems unfamiliar) and I hear some activity in the doorway. There’s a member of the press just inside the door, interacting with someone just out of sight outside the door. He steps into view - it’s Donald Trump. I think I’m naked and/or don’t want him to see me yet, so I hop into the ‘shower’, which is actually the refrigerator. I shut the door and just barely fit in here - I think door’s actually still open just a bit. Pressed up against the sides of this ‘fridge’ with nothing but me in it, I don’t recall my ‘shower’ being this small. I turn the water on and it comes out cold.




I must be performing auto fellatio. I am alone in an almost pitch black
space, feeling the sensations of both giving and receiving oral. It is slow and passionate.




I’m in a store with Mom. she points out a case of beer - it’s all of the World Beer Cup gold winners. The white case is probably almost as long as me and I think $15. Though I know it would be a good choice, I just don’t really want to get it.