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The content of this dream is probably due to the fact that I was up until 2 A.M. last night, writing an essay about Karl Marx. I want to acknowledge to everyone that reads this: I do NOT condone the philosophy of Karl Marx. In fact, I'm not a huge fan of him at all. That's probably why I killed him once I became lucid.

The dream began in an oddly colored version of my former work place, which was a private neighborhood pool. I've been going to his pool since I was around the age of three, so I know it like the back of my hand. One of its features is a rectangular roofed concrete area with grey bench tables. This is where the dream began.

As I walked up to that area, I noticed one of my friends who also worked there sitting on top of the bench table to the side. "You ready to dominante?" He said. "We got this." I said. When he got up I turned around, noticing a long wooden bench table with two groups of yellow party cups arranged in pyramids for beer pong. Karl Marx appeared at the other end of the table, alone with no partner. I looked down at the wooden table again to pick up a ping pong ball, when an odd realization hit me. This is when I became lucid. I didn't even perform a reality check. I knew I was dreaming because there had not been wooden tables at this pool for almost ten years. I remember them so well because we all had our signatures engraved in them. The ones that are there currently are grey and plastic. For some reason I didn't think of stabilizing. I looked back up at Marx. Then I looked at my friend. He gave me this extremely serious expression that lead me to do the following, and I'm not sure why: I looked back at Marx and said, "Sorry dude. You're not supposed to be here." I imagined myself holding a gun and lifted my arm. Sure enough, there was a slate-grey DE.50-looking pistol in my hand. I pulled the trigger without even taking the time to steady my aim and shot Marx in the chest. The round seemed to knock him back hard as he was thrown into one of the support beams. I woke up at this point, pissed off at myself for not stabilizing.

I remember being at the base of a building that was under construction. There had only been about 3 or 4 stories built up, but there only remained a skeleton of the building. I don't remember any dialogue between me and the workers, but I remember almost directing the movement of the "building blocks" with my hand, as if I had control of them.

The dream occurred after I woke up early in the morning. I didn't attempt to wild because I just wanted to go back to sleep

The setting was a very familiar place: the Riverwalk of my hometown. This dream was particularly vivid, because I remember seeing the brown, brick-like floor of Riverwalk along with the cast-iron tables with cigar ashtrays that lined the side farthest from the river. Here is a picture of what Riverwalk looks like:


This picture pretty accuarately depicts the color scheme and weather. I don't remember a single cloud in the sky.
If you were to walk past the flagpole almost all the way down to the end, you'd be where I was

I was with a friend outside of The Cigar Box, a cigar humidor we don't usually go to unless our other favorite one is closed for the night. I was facing towards the shot above, with a pefect view of the flagpole (I was surprised with myself how accurately my mind had created the place upon waking up). My friend was facing the opposite direction. We had a conversation about our favorite cigar lounge called The Tobacco Pouch. The weird thing is, The Tobacco Pouch and The Cigar Box are almost bitter rivals to each other. Our conversation played out as the following:


Me: "Man, I'm going to miss the Tobacco pouch. There're no cigar lounges in [my current living place]."
friend: "That sucks. I'm glad I'm staying in town."
Me: "Yeah, fuck you..haha."
friend: "My only complaint is the hours.
me: "Yeah...Dude, imagine if they were open 24/7?
friend: "We'd be there way too much...we'd probably die of mouth cancer at 50 haha."
me: "Nah I'd still take it in moderation. One cigar every week or two isn't bad." But dude, you know you me and [other friend] wouldh have to get hammered and then spend an entire night at the Pouch. Think of how awesome that would be, smoking stogies until 8 in the morning?
friend: "That would be pretty sick. Just to do it once."

The dream ended.

This conversation is odd, because it does not reflect what I would do in real life under those circumstances. I might stay out late, but I wouldn't stay there, and I certainly wouldn't get smashed...maybe drunk, but not completely smashed