4/29/17

Last night I dreamed that I was under investigation for murder for a dream I had. A detective asked me to write down my dream as my statement and I remember it involved a truck being in the wrong place and the license plate P-02. As I was writing this all down, he asked if I was sure, without a doubt, that I didn’t kill anyone and I said, “Yes, I’m absolutely sure.” He sighed and said, “You know what this means, don’t you? I’m going to have to take you in.” I said, “Yeah, I know.” Because I didn’t confess to the murder he had to charge me with it anyway. He got his cuffs out and I said, “Can I finish writing down the dream first, though? Otherwise I’ll forget the details.” He agreed and read me my rights as I was writing down the dream, which was kind of distracting. My handwriting was getting really crappy because I was trying to write so quickly before I forgot things and I did have the thought, “Are they going to use the change in handwriting as evidence against me? Saying I have a personality disorder?” And I also wondered if/when I should call mom and tell her to call a lawyer because although I felt I could answer the questions and I was innocent, I knew from all the ID shows to lawyer up. The detective looked a bit like Joe Kenda and a bit like the guy from Interviews with Monster Girls. I was in the back room at the restaurant, empty of people, writing down my statement.

I had another dream that the restaurant was completely full and I was running around trying to take orders. I had a little 3-ring notebook I was writing orders in and when I went to one table I’d realized I’d lost the orders for the previous two tables; the pages had fallen out or something. I kept flipping through the book, trying to find them while pretending everything was okay, but everyone knew something was up and was looking at me and getting nervous that no one was taking their orders and they weren’t getting their food. I decided to take the orders to the kitchen that I had while looking for the others later and when I went into the kitchen, everyone was sitting around watching tv and I lost it. I was upset that I was running around trying to keep things together and everyone else was just hanging out, not doing anything, and it never occurred to them to help me..? After yelling at them, I went back out, and the whole back room of people waiting had left because they’d gotten tired of waiting. It was empty; the lights were out, even. And there were my scattered papers of orders on the floor where they’d fallen out of my notebook.

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