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.

3/17/17

I used the same suggestion prior to sleeping as the night before.

Last night I dreamed I was at the warehouse with my family. I loaned a former coworker $20 (which changed to $50 later on in the dream). She paid it back but then other people were outside and kept complaining to me that they had borrowed money from her. I told them that was none of my business, to take it up with her. They were made because they borrowed $30 but when they went to repay it, it was $50 because my former coworker’s boyfriend, who apparently was brokering the thing, charged them interest and fees. I thought to myself that was pretty sketchy, but again, I told them to take that up with him and that I had nothing to do with it.

These groups of people (two or three to a group) kept kind of stalking my business and threatening violence. I was in the back loading dock room in the hopes they couldn’t see me through the windows and would leave but instead one girl found her way in through the back door. She brushed up against my arm and I felt something prickly; I looked down and she was brandishing a taser and giving me a threatening look. I asked, “Are you really threatening me with a taser?” I stood up and she only came up to about my chest, she was really small. And the taser looked very homemade. I said, “Are you really threatening me with a fucking taser?!” at which point I grabbed her arms, spun her, and pinned her. I sat on her, keeping her on the ground, holding her hands behind her back.

I told my mom to call the cops; I knew them so I was confident they would listen to me and believe me and we could clear this whole stupid thing up. Before doing that, however, the girl was now wearing this weird tinfoil hat thing and mom hooked the girl’s homemade taser (which she had dropped in the struggle, I believe) up to the hat. I could feel the girl twitching and I said, “Mom, what are you doing, that’s too much…” (I was still holding the girls arms and keeping her on the ground.) Mom finally turned the taser hat off but I knew it was too late. I don’t know if it was just a thought or aloud that I said, “Well, calling the cops just got a lot tougher now that we have a dead body.”