[Since I’ve been so busy being glued to the couch with my sick, clingy toddler for nearly two weeks, I haven’t had any time to type out the dreams from my dream journal. I finally have a few minutes today, so here is dream 1 of 3.]
I was at a graduation party with my high school best friend, Adara, and a few other people. Her younger brother was graduating from college, and we were in a beautifully decorated mansion, filled with nicely dressed people. Adara and I, along with a random dream created girl, were upstairs drinking, and Adara was getting crazy. The more she drank, which was quite a lot, the smaller she shrunk, until she was about the size of an American Girl doll, less than 2 feet tall. The other girl and I went to find her brother, but couldn’t, and when we found Adara in the bathroom a few moments later, she was in the process of falling off of the toilet, and hitting her head on the sink.
Dream girl and I picked her up, which looked incredibly awkward, as she was still very tiny, and we were holding her as though she were normal sized. We carried her downstairs, and two guys came up to us and tried to pull her away, saying that no one was allowed to leave. I punched one of them in the face, and we loaded Adara into the back of her brother’s car, where he was waiting for us. He told us that he needed to stop at Walmart for something, and that he would be quick, but instead, he pulled into the driveway of another mansion, and got out, leaving us there for a long time.
It started to rain, and the other girl and I grabbed Adara, carrying her in the same awkward position and started running with her toward the hospital in the distance. There were sports cars speeding by us, and people drunkenly hollering to us.
At the hospital, her mom was in the waiting room, and she started hitting us with her purse and telling us it was our fault that Adara ended up like this, because she is allergic to alcohol. The other girl started crying, and a doctor came and put Adara on a tiny stretcher and carried her away. Adara’s mom took a place of cookies out of her purse and started eating them, but told us that we couldn’t have any because we were both bitches.
That’s the last thing I remember before.
My Life as Jan 