“Family” Fun & Strange Lucidity

Too Many Puppies

I dreamed that a strange mixture of alive and dead family families, as well as complete strangers, a friend, and… The Weeknd(?) were all together (at a house/location I don’t recognize) for some sort of family get-together.

Unfortunately everybody had a dog it seemed, and all of them were running a muck. I tried being cordial and social, and only really remember fixing a ceiling fan from making a weird noise. I adjusted something on it and said something stupid in either a British or German accent, “I think I’ve found ze defect,” people laughed.

I found some excuse to get out of the room, and found myself just wanting to write music. I was obsessed with a beat. After awhile, however, I heard my friend saying something loudly, “He’s prolly in here playing with his lil’ balls or something,” and I groaned. My grandmother (dead) and mother were out there for god’s sakes man, ugh.

Strange Exploration

Later I had a dream I was coasting above a ghostly mass of peoples, who were just idling through their commutes, almost in a kind of dance. It was spectral in appearance, with auras and colors coming to life, and not “spooky” (though to some extent, I suppose it did look a little bit like Disney’s Haunted Mansion meets Koyaanisqatsi).

As I flew above it all, the sensation of flying was enough to bring me “online”, and I realized I was dreaming. The dream was too interesting to interrupt, however, so I continued flying through what did start to appear to be a sort of sad, Limbo-like world.

I landed, and walked up to a shore-line. Across the waters I could see a shining, Utopian metropolis, and so I flew to it instead. Once there, the temptation to slip into “the mix” and forget I was dreaming was very strong, so I did (what I believe was) my first actual reality check of this year. Looking at my hands, I sure enough couldn’t get all 10-fingers to hold position/number.

I began walking around, and started getting some odd looks. I could tell this wasn’t going to end well, but figured I’d just go with it for awhile. I walked into what was a sort of high-end department store, and pretty quickly was asked by the manager (interestingly, played by the teacher from Stranger Things) to come with him. I was starting to lose lucidity, simply because I really hate being profiled or having others assume wrong-doing on my part, so by the time we stepped into a side room with another female associate, I was too consumed with where the dream was going than remembering it was just a dream I could end anyhow I wished at any time.

“What do you have in your pockets? Huh? What’s in your jacket there??” He asked, unzipping and pulling at my clothes.

My own items, a pair of headphones, old gloves, nothing of interest, fell out. Then suddenly a large woman’s purse still with a price tag came falling out too.

“What the hell do I need with that?? I didn’t steal that!” I said.

“Uh huh, sure!” They replied. I thought this Utopia was a bit cliche, but an interesting visit nonetheless.

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Dead Loves Ones, and Mind Gaps

Just as I was starting to get better dream recall and even a brief lucid dream, I have caught the flu. This has given my dreams the smack down. It seems to me, the first month I had started this blog, I also got sick, causing a similar stepping stone (no, there is not a connection between lucid dreaming and catching colds or the flu, but likely several things conspire to keep you off a path of this kind of Dream Work).

So, we work/fight through it and do as best as we can, until once again, BAM! The dreams come back online. That having been said, I do recall some interesting facts about last night’s dream that are worth recording (and to be fair, ALL dreams are worth your recording, it strengthens dream recall, even if all you can remember from the night before is feelings or emotions).


My uncle, who has been passed away for some time now, was a very large man. He was tall and had a big frame, and always a big eater (he coped with his past by eating, while his sister, my mother, coped with alcohol). In my dream, I was stranded off an exit, only about a mile or two from where I actually wanted to be. I decided to suck it up, and start walking. Here’s where the logic (and possibly the flu’s influence) gets fuzzy, but welcome to dreams, fool.

My uncle was a good 7-8 feet tall in this dream, and though hefty, was more of a jolly giant hefty than debilitatingly obese. I do not remember if he was driving and got out of his truck to help me, or if he was just jogging down the interstate, but I do remember him offering to let me climb up on his back, and that he would piggyback ride me to where I was going. I said I felt a bit old for that, but he said nonsense. So he jogged me a ways, and I stopped him at a point saying, “This can’t be healthy for you, let’s just walk together the rest of the way.”

Later, I was at my exit. I was (and by the way, I’m remembering yet another dream AS I’m writing this, so yes, Dream Journaling is a MUST for Dream Recall, do it. Do. It.), I was possibly meeting an ex (yes, an ex at the exit), it’s fuzzy. I do remember trying to explain “my day” to her, and first I said, “So, I saw my uncle earlier,” to which she replied, “He’s looking pretty bad.” I said, “Um, no, actually, he was looking surprisingly strapping. He jogged me here, in fact.”

I then made an effort to recall the connective points in my day that led to my being stranded, but couldn’t. I tried remembering if my uncle left his truck on the interstate, or if he had been vehicle-less too, but couldn’t. I then said, “I have gaps in my memory… that’s not… that’s not good.”

Never making the connection that I had been, and was still, dreaming. ::sigh::

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Superman’s Pal, Jimmy Olsen

A few nights ago, after purging a great deal of toxins out of my body, my dreams came BACK online in full effect. Strangely enough, the next night SEEMED uneventful, until I remembered I not only had a briefly lucid dream, but also that I flew. But first, the eventful night…

I dreamed that a group of friends were having a strange sort of intervention for Superman. We wanted to get right down to the bottom of this superiority complex of his. How could one possibly be so advanced beyond the rest of mankind and NOT view them as ants, I asked. I don’t recall lots of memorable characters in the room, but I knew that Jimmy Olsen was one of the people, I just never SAW Jimmy Olsen. Superman admitted, sometimes, just once or twice, he’s pondered what the planet would be like without humanity ruining it and causing each other so much suffering. I “ah ha!”, and Superman seemed hurt.

Much later in the dream, I was walking down the street and I got caught up in some kind of parade. Debutantes and cheerleader types were everywhere, and I just wanted to get around it all. Every turn, you guessed it, the parade followed. Finally, somehow I got mixed up IN the parade, and two girls were snobbishly annoyed at my existence (to be fair, I was pretty sick of the parade and them). My taking wrong turns somehow lead THEM to take a wrong turn, and we ended up load. We all thought we could cut through to the other side of a warehouse, by walking into it (though I was just trying to get away from the mob). I didn’t like that they followed me in, because I could already sense their anger with me and didn’t want further repercussions or problems.

They went their way in the warehouse and I went mine, but soon I realized I was VERY lost and began to panic. Something about the girls made me think they could turn malicious, and not knowing where they were only added to my concern. After feeling like I had merely made my way into the deepest part of the warehouse, I became very scared. I needed out.

I pulled out my phone, and went to the contacts. Sure enough, there was “Superman”. I called him, very sheepishly.

“Hello?”, he answered.

“Um, look, I know this is ridiculous, and I’m sure you’re busy,” I could hear crashing and gunshots over the phone.

“A little,” he replied, not sounding mad, but unable to hide the truth of the matter.

“I’m lost as fuck in the warehouse district, and uh… I mean, whenever, it’s not super pressing, but…,” I shook my head, embarrassed. “Could you come get me out of here?”

And then it hit me. I was Jimmy Olsen.


In another dream, I had a rare book filled with drawings and signatures by renowned artists of Batman. Vince Vaughn (and I haven’t the foggiest idea why he made an appearance in my dreams) said, “I’m actually a really good artist,” and grabbed my book. He began doodling a large Marvel Comics Starlord sketch in my book. I was mortified.

The End.

My Old Boss

In another dream, my mature, well-endowed, fiery redhead boss (from over 5 years ago!) was teaching some kind of class. I cannot remember the circumstances of what happened, but she at some point feigned falling or an injury, and fell into my arms (yeah, yeah, I’m just relating the dream, okay?).

As I helped her up, she kissed me on the lips and whispered that she’d like to see me tonight. I said sure.

Silly and uneventful dream, but what was interesting was, I woke up and thought, “Whelp, that particular dream/fantasy isn’t gonna happen,” and fell back to sleep.

I then dreamed that my old apartment was now even closer to the beach (right on it, in fact) than before and the “mother-in-law” type home just off the main house on the property that I had lived in alone for a few years was now partially attached to the main home, which was MUCH fancier than the real place I had lived.

I wanted to explore, but knew that I had to get ready for my “date” with my teacher/boss. The dream was continuing, but I kept thinking, “She should really come here, these digs are sweet!”

Alas, that was the end of the dream. I appreciate dreams interconnecting later, even after awakening. I would like to strengthen “intention” and the likelihood of occasionally more cohesive “storylines”.

A Dream of Flying

Lastly, I dreamed that I was in my current abode, shared by several roommates. They would likely mock my dream life and psychonaut tendencies, so when it suddenly occurred to me that I was dreaming, despite regular, somewhat low ceilings, I decided to fly around the house.

“Do you see? It’s liberating to be able to do this from time to time!” I exclaimed, as I swooped around and scared the hell out of everyone. Unfortunately, in my excitement, I forgot that I was dreaming, and thus eventually returned to the ground and void of whatever next dream may have come.


Lastly, I had a rather boring work dream, where in the dream I fixed some problem nobody understood or could remedy.

Posted in Comic Books, Dream Description, Flying, Lost, Lucidity, Sex, Uncategorized, Work | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

HEROIC DOSE Report vs. Dreaming


Some people claim cannabis enhances their dreams, but the vast majority agree, it’s a dream dampener. When one is attempting to squash their dreams, as much PTSD stems from an uncontrolled dream-life, then this is a nice way to do it. But know that you are always dreaming, even if they’re sludgy, almost completely forgotten dreams.

Many times when we act “out of character”, we say, “I don’t know where that came from, that wasn’t like me.” Suppressing dreams and avoidance of emotions can lead to what appears like a break from our normal selves, although suppression is often an important tool. Take for instance holding back from road rage, acting violently (to ourselves or others), and so on. The anger may “subside”, but the rage just reluctantly takes the elevator down into our unconscious minds. Sometimes we act these fantasies out in dreams and are horrified upon awakening. Or, as another example, holding back sadness for appearances sake. Sometimes this is a good thing, but I’ve began crying in a movie theater just from hearing Bob Marley’s “Redemption Song”, unable to explain why exactly.

What goes up, must come down. And sometimes, what goes down, WILL come back up.

And while I still extol cannabis as a pain reliever, eye-opener, and when a sativa, a mild psychoactive that can be combined with a nice coffee and help one think more actively and creatively, I have been utterly and completely remiss as a result of using it as frequently as I have in relation to my efforts in Dream Exploration. But, now it’s time to face my fears, chew some bubblegum, and kick some ass.


The first time I tried a low dosage of Psilocybin mushrooms (about 1.5g), the intense, Sativa-plus qualities blew me away. Colors were more vivid, geometric patterns appeared in carpeting and clothing, and my imagination became ultra HD. I had a previously described spiritual awakening which caused me to understand my old beliefs system was causing me an unnecessary amount of guilt and shame. After going through much, I was tired of peoples’ judgment, and began to search for “another way”.

A mere 1.5g changed my life.

Since then, I had grown my own Golden Teachers and B+. On almost 3g, I had open eye visuals, verging on the spiritual, however I also understood that I had been feeding my mind previous to the trip with Sacred Geometry, examples of Metatron’s Cube used in laying out paintings of Buddha and Renaissance paintings of Christ, and so on. But I had yet to try Terrance McKenna’s “Heroic Dose” (5g or more, alone, in the dark, in silence).

So last year, I finally tried it. First, I tested out the technique with 2g, only to discover this was a much more powerful mushroom I had gotten ahold of. I sat in a darken closet, and it felt like I was on the Tower of Terror. I was prepared for the lights and geometric patterns, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the tingling presence of “other”. I was okay with the large drops and intense heights, as I had previously done 8 packets of cleaned Morning Glory seeds, and while doing intense breathing exercises, found myself feeling as though I was shot into Heaven upon the inhalations and dropped to the depths of Hell with the exhalations. This wasn’t nearly as bad.

Soon, it became a bit boring, and I was exhausted (one disadvantage to this particular mushroom, it caused the aching of joints, and vibrational sensation that the MG seeds had caused, which is akin to having a timed flu, physically speaking). I began drifting in and out of consciousness, but psilocybin doesn’t allow me to sleep (not sure if anyone could hit the hay on this particular mushroom, as the person who got me them admitted, “This was by far the strongest mushroom I’ve ever had.”). So, an interesting combination almost accorded and I wish I was at the height of my Dream training, as shown in my past posts here.

Through the wave of digital, interconnected lights of the mushrooms, I saw what appeared VERY much like a real flashlight having been turned on inside the movie theater of my mind while I was drifting off to sleep to the patterned geometric patterns of the plant. It seemed to be several yards away from me, and it flashed on and moved, but like a newb, I opened my eyes. The digital lights were still there, of course, as the trip was going to last about 5 hours, but the “flash light” disappeared. I can only presume this was a hypnogogic light produced by the brain upon drifting into sleep, but upon opening my eyes, it obviously disappeared.

I won’t even get into the Revelations that the mushrooms have shown, we’ll try and stick to the scientific side of things for now.


I thought I had seen it all. I’ve faced dinosaur sized alligators in my dreams, fully lucid, I’ve had sleep paralysis, and brushed it off by simply closing my eyes and swimming into a lucid dream, and I’ve had at least one dream versus a “shadow person” (or fear eater, as some call these archetypal visions) and embraced it, knowing even paralyzed, this merely meant I was dreaming. On everything from 1.5g to 3g, I have done Reality Checks and it always held.

Nothing can prepare you for 5g on a supercharged psilocybin mushroom, in the dark, alone in silence.

For the record, you cannot overdose on Cannabis or Psilocybin. In fact, I’ve done a bar crawl and gotten alcohol poisoning, and vomited bile until 1pm the next day — but after a “binge” on either of these two drugs, upon awakening the next day, generally feel BETTER than waking up on a normal day. Some adventurous souls have done 30+g of mushrooms, and claim there’s a “break point” where you’re almost not even tripping, but super focused and attuned. UCF Fighters claim micro-dosing psilocybin gives them an advantage, as they feel they can almost predict attacks coming at them.

BUT, if your family is prone to psychotic breaks or if you are going through a massive amount of stress, I do advice a trip sitter. There’s a Chicken or the Egg debate regarding psilocybin and cannabis, regarding people with mental illness. Sometimes, they can help with major depression (shown in clinical studies and various test subjects), but sometimes… well, when jumping into the deep end of one’s own subconscious mind, in the Marian Trench depths, “Here There be Monsters.”

I sat in the closet, and the show began INSTANTLY. Little to no “come up”. The moment my eyes shut, I was bombarded by lights and a face that appeared like the Sun itself. It was so “in my face” and close, it was jarring. The sense that this was NOT me in control was alarming, but the point is to see what’s all in there and let it guide/instruct you. But some teachers are crueler than others, and some people have bigger “demons”. This felt like God’s headlights barreling down upon me.

Soon, I was dropping from a great height as a house-sized, black Hefty bag, filled with what was likely deadmen’s bones was falling with me, but it was upon a rollercoaster track. I was just free falling beside it. Skulls and bones popped in and out of the bag, as if shifting rather than ripping through the bag. The bag moved like a random, algarhythmic nightmare. Then I was dropped into a sea of churning meat, as if it was pumping out of a cosmic meat grinder. It was so in my face, I couldn’t handle it, so I got up and turned on the lights.

This is what Terrance McKenna would describe as “fighting the mushroom”, and much like Jacob, you’re likely to at least break a hip if you try and fight God. Is there the risk of hurting one’s self out of fear? Yes, THAT is a possibility. Or, like the inexperienced person who unknowingly eats a strong batch of cannabis cookies, you might THINK you are dying, and though you are not, calling 911 or running outside, could prove VERY embarrassing and expensive. Fortunately, nothing quite so bad happened….

I got into bed, wrapped myself in a red blanket (which made me laugh, because it appeared alive and elongated, almost like Doctor Strange’s cape), and stared at the room. What was going to happen? The sensation was EXACTLY as being in a lucid dream. I expected to see miniature elephants parading around on my floor, and I was okay with that. Something amusing, I was okay with. Something silly. Please be silly, I thought. I imagined what I looked like, curled up on my bed, looking around my room waiting for something to happen, and suddenly, I SAW myself from the perspective of about 7 feet in the air above my bed, looking down. It was so utterly vivid, it was almost panic inducing. I did a Reality Check, deciding in advance that if the RC failed, I would still treat this as reality. This. Was. Not. A. Dream.

All ten fingers accounted for (never mind that they were stretching slowly down my blankets), I then looked across the room and saw all my spiritual trinkets and protection and started laughing at how fool-hearty I was, for not applying or using ANY of them during this. I grabbed a lanyard that had an I.D. badge that merely said, “Guest” and put it around my neck to hold onto what I could feel was a growing loss of my own Ego and identity. I sat in the middle of the floor, I tried to think of some mantras or phrases that might protect me from what I could feel coming. It was as if the very Walls of Reality were shaking with the weight of several, sentient freight trains, and all the tracks met in my head.

Again, I had already given up on the darkness, now I had to be around people. Fortunately, my friend was in the next room, unaware of what I had undertaken. ::ring, ring:: “Hey, you over there? Can I come over? Yeah, I may have done something stupid.”

I came into their room, and sat down. I felt the carpet to attempt to ground myself. It did no good. He was watching a cartoon movie, and I remember thinking, “It’s one of those… those things that tells people stories… a, a MOVIE!” His tiny dog sensed what I was going through and came up to me. I pet him and he licked my face. I wasn’t upset with the animal, but his breath triggered something. Now when I closed my eyes, I could see, through only the thinnest of Confessional Booth like hatch-screens, Cthulhu. As vivid as when I opened my eyes and saw my friend. Tendrils and tentacles, wriggling every which way. I told my friend not to let me fall asleep. If I thought this was bad, I definitely didn’t want to know what I’d be in for if I closed my eyes.

Then, a sort of ::CLICK::. Who was I? If I wasn’t me? On invasive, synthetic drugs, people had become FACE-EATERS, for God’s sakes, what was *I* capable of? It felt like I had dropped into my own BIOS, and was rebooting. But who would I be when the Operating System loaded up? What viruses might I have contracted? What programs would be running?

I asked my friend if he could whip up a make-shift straight jacket out of belts. I fully understood the reason for straight jackets in that moment. I wasn’t so much worried I’d become violent (though all bets were off as far as I was concerned at that moment), but he reasoned with me. I lay in bed, and tried talking it off. He asked me at one point if I think aliens really exist, and I was able to confirm, they certainly do, and I’m seeing them then and there. I closed my eyes, and now a giant NAGA was behind the same cross-hatching, and behind these entities was nothing but SPACE. Later, I felt that these were living Jungian Archetypes, and I was actually peering into the Collective Consciousness.


I asked that my friend play Enya. It drastically improved my perspective and calmed me down. Now, even though I understood, FIRST HAND, what the phrase “going around the bend” meant, and even though the Angels I was seeing/feeling felt as much like Angles, even being “Touched by God” was better than being just looked at by these other beings. (Fun side note, “Silly” means Divinely Touched, and I got what I wished for — ie., careful what you wish for.) Enya’s “Only Time” began to warble and echo, but it was still comforting.


When I looked around in my mind, it felt as though Religion, societal rules, and all the basic concepts of the Super Ego had now also disappeared. Those Walls were all that kept the vast depths of “what is out there” at bay, and even though “out there” is where I wanted to explore, I was now petrified of it. It’s like being afraid of heights (which I am) and being held on the edge of the moon, pointed towards the Earth, and being dropped. Will you fall? Will you float off?

Most of the rest of the night was just dealing with physical bouts of nausea and a strong mental break down. I knew who and where I was, I just wanted to be DONE with the trip and sleeping. That wouldn’t come for another couple of hours.


Waking dreams is essentially psychosis. When we dream, our minds turn off our bodies (if we’re lucky) and we experience madness, daily. This is the mind’s way of processing all the information we SEE in a day, but do not necessarily acknowledge. Those with imbalancements experience Sleep Paralysis and “waking nightmares”. Some sleepwalk. Some suffer from schizophrenia, and hear voices (often, malicious ones). These are MEDICAL conditions. This is science. Psilocybin causes a sort of form of psychosis, a waking dream or nightmare, depending upon how you allow the trip to go. I fought it, and it went poorly.

I woke up earlier than I expected the next day, felt fine, and went in to work.


NOW, when the boss is barking at me, I just smile slyly and stare him right in the eyes. There are far less things to be afraid of when one has stared Cthulhu in the cephalopod face and yet lived.

Also, though it didn’t quite hold in the face of all my running away from the trip (that there’s no running from), knowing the lower levels of one’s own identity is a pretty nice plus. I am NOT a face-eater. That’s good to know. I am not an inherently violent or dangerous person, again, that’s a positive. But what’s more, when I was lapsing in and out of remembering who I was, and why “this” was happening to me, I would remember, with a bit of anger that I had forgotten…


“You are the Oneironeer. You are the same person who has fought and faced many inner demons and turned nightmares into empowering, lucid dreams.”


Do I ever plan on doing this again?

Of course I do. But first, I have to return to my “kingdom” and clean house. Time to reclaim my dreams. I have forgone cannabis, soda, processed meats, McDonalds, and have a renewed focus. But more on that another time.

Posted in Alligators, Angels, Anima, Brothers, Comic Books, Demons, Doppelganger, Dream Description, Dream Tools, Fail, Funeral, Heroic Dose, Lucidity, Nightmare, Theater | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Small Sadness and Bizarre Anger

All I can remember pulling out of my subconscious mind early in the morning hours, were tiny portions of two separate dreams.

In the first, I lay down on top of a wife (note, not an ex-wife, just A wife) and our daughter, who was laughing. At that moment, I thought, this is happiness. The dream itself was all too brief, but cram packed with sentiment, and later in the morning when I had remembered it, I was saddened by the “reality”. However, later on my way to work, I listened to a fellow explorer of inner space on YouTube, who reminded me that many of the past magic schools questioned the “certainty” of this supposedly material plane of existence. And of course many of the world’s philosophers have wondered if this “reality” is not the dream, etc., etc.

Point is, I’m no longer sad, and it now feels like a fun little alternate/multiverse reality I was able to visit briefly.

The second dream was mostly silly. I believe the general layout of the home was a townhouse that my father had back when I was around 10 years old, but instead of that side of my family being in it, relatives from my mother’s side were in it. I opened the upstairs bathroom door (now that memory serves me, awkwardly placed right at the top of the stairs, adjacent to the living room/dining room. Nonetheless, I opened the door to use the bathroom, and the lights were out, but my nephew (now grown up, but my memory of him is still at roughly 5 years old) on the toilet, all screaming at me because I’m walking in to an OPENED bathroom with no lights on. I was pissed in returned and yelled something to the effect of, “Shut the @*$! up! Why’d you leave the door unlocked moron!” And he grabbed something that now my mind can’t seem to recall, but it was almost like his training potty, I want to say, and raised it above his head in protest, but he hadn’t used it yet, so he just walked out with it above his head.

He then placed it on the ground and it was a small race car, and he drove off into a room down the hall/balcony.

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So a Lot Has Changed

It has been almost 2 years since my second divorce, and even blogging anonymously about it is embarrassing. But I began to realize that without any record of dreaming, I do not recall my dreams. What’s worse, the meditative and inner work that I have over the last year begun, could only be improved upon by merging my past endeavors (my dream work) with these new ones, but I have mostly had my return to dream work blocked by something internal.

Part of that block comes from (and here’s where the loop begins) my embarrassment and not blogging. So, breaking the circle…

I’ve recalled my dreams over the last few nights, as unproductive as they seemed, and while a few have since been forgotten due to not recording them, here are the ones I remember.

Ain’t Skeered
I was talking with some friends about our recently changed belief systems. I was previously in a religious organization for my entire teenage and adult life that encouraged the notion of boogie men and wicked spirits. To some extent, I *may* still believe in unseen beings, “children of the firmament” as it were, but that our work in magick and ritual seemed inconclusively (to me at least) to show it was not as we had been taught to fear.

Months of esoteric practices, and though plenty of internal and exterior progress has been made in a Solve Et Coagula manner of changes, etc., we had never once seen anything that caused us to think ethereal boogie men were set to pounce upon our unsuspecting lives. No books floated or tossed off shelves. No shadowy figures in the night.

In fact, those fears have seemed to all but disappeared. The dream was merely me explaining this to them. When I awoke, I got the chills because it dawned on me that, within a dream, my cocky resolve could have easily been shaken by an impossible dream scenario going sideways. Even within the anything-goes realm of dreaming, my rational mind wasn’t thrown by any bizarre happenings.

No Thing for Sale, No Thing to Fear

I dreamt I was at a sort of Toy & Comic Expo, which I had to pay to get into. It was only two small rooms, and there was hardly anything there. I was upset I had wasted my time and money. 

Eventually that became a couple friends (a bearded gentlemen and possibly my mom and some others?) waiting at a nice restaurant. They were seated, but I was left waiting. I grew angrier, but as they ate, I happily stewed and prepped myself for the complaining I was going to do. I asked to see the manager, but it was so busy, by the time things slowed down and people shuffled out, I noticed I had been left all alone in the restaurant.

The lights were turned off, and I was locked in. I fell asleep and was jarred back awake in the dream to a public service announcement over the alarm system about a conman/killer on the loose. This worried me only a little, and I considered setting off the alarm intentionally.

I did, and soon a group of people arrived and I was allowed to leave. I seem to recall one was a police officer and another was a Padre. 

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A Couple Random Dreams

I dreamt I was on my old back porch from when I was a teenager. It was night, but everything was well lit. At the end of the porch was a large birdcage (which probably was there originally, as my parents had just about every animal known to man at various points). An orange cat I had from when I was in my 20s was trying to get at the bird in the cage. I called to him, “Jack!”

Last night, I dreamt I kept myself so busy all night, so much so that the sun was up, and I was going to get absolutely no sleep before an 8 hour work shift. It filled me with so much dread, when I woke up, I still felt it. I had forgotten my dream, but felt anxious. I did my best to remember what I had just dreamt, and soon remembered looking into a bedroom and seeing my mother trying to sleep, which was near the end of my dream, and the rest came back to me. It was a relief to know why I felt a sense of dread, and I was able to rest awhile longer before it was actually time for me to get up and go to work. 

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