I was flying to Florida with a group of scientists and explorers, all dressed like they had just jumped off the set of one of the Jurassic Park movies. Continue reading “Dream Journal 2/17/19 | Florida Trip”
I was in an elevator, I think in some sort of massive spermall, trying to find a specific floor. Continue reading “Dream Journal 6/10/18 | Weird Mall”
I was sitting in band class, clarinet in hand, waiting patiently as our teacher handed out some sheet music. He handed me my part, and immediately informed the class that we only had an hour to perfect and memorize the song, because we would be marching around the school in an hour, competing against other schools.
We ran through the song a few times, which sounded HORRIBLE, and he decided to inform me that he wanted me to have a solo, just as we were walking out the door. I told him I wasn’t comfortable with that, and he just ignored me.
We were in the hallway, standing as a group, between two other bands. They were both standing at attention, and were wearing matching, snazzy uniforms. We were all in jeans and t-shirts, and looked like terrified, jumpy animals. We began moving through the very large, very empty, hallways of the school, at more of a walking pace, rather than marching, as the group in front of us played through their song perfectly. As we passed by the gym, the first group broke off, and went in. Myself, and the clarinet player next to me, began to follow them into the gym, but one of them turned to us and shouted at us to leave.
We get back to our own band, and the teacher signaled for us to begin playing. It. Was. Bad. No one knew the song. At all. Then, he signaled to me to begin playing my solo, that I was somehow expected to know, and I looked down and realised that I no longer had my clarinet. He kept staring at me, and I started to panic. Then, the clarinet player to my left started playing something to break the silence. It was shaky and breathy, and didn’t sound like much of anything, but I appreciated her breaking the terrible silence.
We kept walking, even as the band behind us started playing, until my teacher pulled me aside. He told me that it was okay that I didn’t do my solo, because now he wanted me to do a new solo. A spoken solo. He said that we were going to act out some scene from a book about zoo animals, and that I was going to be reciting the park of a lion, who gives a motivational speech about going to war… or something. He pulled us all aside, out of the path of the other band, and handed out a bunch of children’s books. We flipped through the pages, all confused as hell, as he began reading to us.
My fellow clarinet playing friend and I started to read our parts, when we suddenly heard the sounds of a crowd screaming and cheering. They were chanting something, but I’m not sure what. Our teacher motioned for us to follow him down the hallway, back toward the gym…
And then I woke up.
Liam and I were visiting family up in Maine, and we were staying at my mom’s boyfriend’s mother’s house. Liam and I were staying in her split level house, while everyone else was staying in the obscene large mansion that she had casually built onto her old split level. I was sitting in the dining room, Liam on my lap, talking to a few family members, when I started feeling tired, and curled up on the floor with Liam. Everyone kept on talking, and I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes and it was morning. I could hear whispering, and turned to see my mom’s boyfriend’s son, and his girlfriend, staring at me from the hallway. I was still lying on the kitchen floor. They were wearing nothing but towels, and they hurried past me, through the kitchen, and out the door, without a word. I stood up, and suddenly started to panic, because Liam was not with me. I ran around the house calling his name, but he wasn’t there. I entered the mansion part of the house through a massive, iron gate on the other side of the living room, and tried to find someone to help me look for him. Several family members saw me running from room to room, but none of them offered to help, and just ignored me.
I found my mom, and her boyfriend’s mother, sitting at a long dining table in a great hall, and asked them if they had seen him. My mom told me that the only available bed was in the attic, so they locked him up there. I started crying and ran to find the attic. Upon reaching the room, I found it empty, and I screamed dramatically. I opened a door on the other side of the room, and was suddenly on a rocky beach. A few yards away sat Liam, kicking his feet in the shallow, ocean water. I ran and scooped him up, squeezing him against me, sobbing, while he playfully tried to push me away.
I went back inside, and found all of the family members sitting at the large, dining table now. I started shouting about how awful, and irresponsible it was for them to leave him alone in the attic, especially when there was (freaky magical) access to the beach. They all just stared at me, and my mom’s boyfriend’s mother laughed and told me to stop being so overprotective. I was livid. I put Liam down and grabbed a chair, chucking it forcefully at her head. It crashed against the table, and everyone started screaming and running away.
I grabbed one of the chair legs, stuck the end into the nearby fireplace, and threw the flaming torch into the scattering crowd. One of the family members called me a monster, and she threw a mug at me, but it missed and shattered on the ground. Liam started crying, and I picked him up, calmly walking out of the large room, while everyone kept shouting fearfully.
We walked back to the split level part of the house, and walked out the door. I checked each of the dozen cars parked in the driveway for an unlocked door, and ended up stealing a black sports car. I drove the car to a nearby park, we got out, and started heading toward a nearby swing set.
And then I woke up.
Kyle, Liam, and I were at an amusement park on a pier, similar t one I grew up by. All of the rides were being repainted bright green for St. Patrick’s Day, and there was a group of protesters shouting something about how St. Patrick’s Day is racist against certain individuals, or something like that. There were police all around them, and the protesters were getting rowdy and violent, reaching out to grab at families and people that were walking past. We rushed by them, and were walking toward a large arcade at the end of the pier.
I put Liam on my shoulders, and he pointed to one of the policemen and said, “Constable!” and I was so shocked that I almost dropped him, because that was his fist word ever besides “mama“. Kyle was laughing and I was nearly in tears, and Liam kept bouncing on my shoulders shouting, “Constable, constable!”
The arcade was getting painted when we went in, and the floors were covered in wet, green paint. We walked through the paint, along with the other pier-goers, tracking footprints everywhere, but no one seemed to mind. Kyle was trying to win a prize in the claw machine, and getting angry at it, while I took Liam over to play one of those Whack-A-Mole type games. He went nuts, and hit every single one of them.
An announcement came over the intercom that the arcade was closing, even though it was early in the afternoon, and people started to get upset. I took Liam outside, and we couldn’t find Kyle. The protesters had broken through the line of police in the distance, and were running around, destroying the buildings and rides. I put Liam back on my shoulders and started running toward the parking lot, but the protesters had lit all of the cars on fire. I started screaming for Kyle…
And then I woke up.