I was in the back of some kind of prisoner transport van with a dozen other people, all handcuffed, sitting quietly. At the other end of the van, one man was fiddling with his cuffs, and got them open. He helped the guy next to him get his cuffs off using some kind of tool, who then silently helped the next person, etc., until we were all free. The first man whispered that we were headed into the city, where there were currently riots in the streets. He said that once we got close enough to hear the crowds, we would rush the van doors, break out, and scatter. Continue reading “Dream Journal 6/21/16 | Dream #1: Fugitive”
He pointed to the other end of the bank, where I saw a group of men entering. I was terrified to see that the group was made up of garishly dressed men, specifically, presidents that have been dead for years.