rshort1202

I think I am in New York City. I am outside of a somewhat smaller building that has at least two climbing walls attached to the exterior. There is a line (I think mostly of kids) for each. There are a few police officers that seem to be letting people in. I think I don’t really need to climb one, but end up doing so. I think everyone is trying for speed and I know that I could beat them due to my age and experience, so I just climb it regularly. I think I only have socks on. I also think there’s something about not thinking I’m on a rope, but then discovering I’m on an auto belay. Now, I am walking around the corner to deposit a check (or make a withdrawal or something similar). The building has older columns and a white stone staircase. I pass by a few sketchy people, then enter into a tiny room. There’s one other in here, a girl who seems to be friendly with the female bank teller. I have to sort of make my presence known. I now give her the slip and think I get it and a receipt back. I also think I did something wrong, since it’s been so long since I’ve done something like this, and have to go back.

I am somewhere outside? with Melissa, Pepe, and his mom. I think they both look high and then, sure enough, she lets on that they are. She confides in us that Caesar is the head of some pot farm/ selling ring or something similar. I can see it, imagining him and his boisterous personality right now. Now, I am climbing up through some tall and thin wooden structure. I pass through ‘floors’ that are spaces barely bigger than my body. Each side of the space, I think even including the top, is a mirror, making for a trippy experience. I now get to what seems to be the top. It is different because the sides are concave, joining in a small ceiling, and it seems there’s nowhere left to go. I don’t accept this possibility though, and push on one of the sides. It opens and reveals a vast, dim space that I think may be the pot farm.




I am in New York City with Melissa, walking along a sidewalk. The street is busy and I can smell and taste the putrid emissions from passing trucks. The sidewalk is close enough to the street, but it thins even further at one point, leaving hardly any space for foot traffic. We pass a tower with a parabolically curved glass facade. The glass is mostly translucent, but it gets much dimmer higher up. There is a space behind the glass, in which there are large advertisements. Melissa says something about how they won’t even be visible. I agree. We end up in a restaurant that seems familiar (from another dream, I think). I notice a couple about our age in the booth behind us, across from me. They are dressed pretty nice for this place and sitting on the same side. I think about their life. I notice a man in sunglasses sitting alone at a booth diagonal from us. Melissa asks to trade sides, and we do. I look through the fairly short menu and decide I want pretty much the first thing on it, some corn dog things. The waitress, brunette and maybe 30+, comes over and seems out of it, like drunk or sad or something. She gives us a minute. I look at the extensive beer list in the back. They’re sorted by brewery (they must all be local - I don’t recognize any), under the brewery’s logo. The price per beer is then listed after the name, lowest to highest, separated by slashes. Most of the first prices are six to seven dollars, but I see prices like 9,16, 27, 59, etc. I think these prices must be for bottles and/or pitchers but that they’re still ridiculous. I guess that’s just how it is in the city. Nothing sounds too good anyway, so I figure I’ll settle for a slightly cheaper bill. The waitress returns and sits by me, putting her hand on my shoulder. It could be a nice gesture, but with how she is slightly rubbing her hand it is taken a little too far. She takes Melissa’s order and then mine. I say ‘I just found something, where did it go?’, trying to find it again. I find it and tell her while also pointing. She doesn’t say much. She comes back and sits again. This time she reaches over and grabs my crotch. I am a little shocked and put my own hand over it. When I move my hand, she does it again and then leaves. I text or tell Melissa and she just shrugs it off. I want to tell her what kind of reaction there would be if the genders were switched.

I am with Makayla on some city street (I think it is New York). The sky seems dark though the surroundings do not. There are constellations in the sky that are bright and huge, almost comically so. I notice one cluster that I sometimes see in the sky (*it’s that one that I actually do see, almost a trapezoidal outline with more stars inside); it is also exaggerated in size. I think or say something about seeing this on psychedelics, and Makayla hands me two tabs of acid. I take them without hesitation and chew them into a ball instead of letting them sit. We walk around and I think I notice my perceptions start to subtly change.

I walk up to a small bar counter in a small room. The room seems mainly to be for some standing space and the counter. I think there is a window with a view behind the counter or a little off to the side, adding some hazy sunlight. A few moments after I situate myself at the counter, a clean cut and conventionally attractive bartender turns his attention to me. He makes eye contact and lifts his chin as a way of asking what he can get for me. The menu seems to be hanging and is in two sections. Each option is a wine, but each is the name of a place. I tell him I see that the options are names of places and not varietals, and I ask what he would recommend given that. I am confident in what I am saying, but I’m still self conscious of my voice. There are people on either side of me, and it feels like their attention is on me and what I’m saying. The man asks what I’m looking for, and I say a white because of the hot weather. He asks what kind of flavors, and I say probably something more creamy than tart and something more sweet than not, but not cloyingly so. I end up saying quite a few flavors to where it still makes sense but is not very specific. He asks me to narrow it down, and I say ‘just not a red.’ he and the couple to my left start laughing. Self conscious, I ask what’s so funny. Amber from Sephora is here now and telling the man “babe, be nice.”





I am in a smaller house that seems to only have basic furniture and no adornments. There is a couple that calls me (from the house across the street I think). The woman is describing a ‘medical emergency’ that really doesn’t sound like one. They want me to do something about it, but I’m trying to talk it down and get out of it. They still end up coming over here, into the bedroom I am in. the woman, with dark hair and eye makeup, starts reprimanding me about the nature of the ‘emergency’ and my reluctance to remedy it. It sounds like the guy, what is here but not saying anything, only scratched his finger, I think from the pin part on an EAS tag. I apologize, empathize, and just nicely tell her what she wants to hear. She’s fairly understanding but still comes off like she thinks she is so in the right. I let her think that but still think it’s puerile. They then leave, I think on good terms.





I am in an unfamiliar city, on a bike. There are buildings either way I could go on this street. I know I need to go somewhere, but I’m not sure where and I’m not sure which way to go. I just follow my gut feeling and it turns out to be right. I am riding along the sidewalk, slightly downhill. It looks like the road is turning into a bridge over water. The sidewalk is divided down the middle by little white markers standing up. Everyone is to the right, and they all seem to be going slow. The bridge seems to be more of a flat expanse now, the road blending into the sidewalk, blending into a smaller barrier at the edge. We seem to be right at water level or just barely above it. The water is bright and clear, soft sunlight brilliantly reflecting upon it. The whole scene is beautiful and slightly surreal. For some reason, I think this is London.

I am walking through a city. This city looks like downtown but is supposed to be NYC I think. I’m thinking that it looks familiar and then sure enough, I see a ‘Libby’ street. Now, Mom and Makayla are with me and we’re in an area that seems a little less congested. I don’t see any people, and I hadn’t earlier either. The only person we pass is a thin guy who is walking slowly and looks a little tweaked out. He’s muttering to himself and I think also hissing. I pick up a stray, sharp rock just in case. He ends up walking right behind us and then talking to me. He’s pretty incoherent, but also threatening enough to where I slam the rock against his forehead twice. It doesn’t look like it made a mark or an effect. The guy just seems totally out of it.