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rude store manager
riding a bicycle
submerged bridge
shopping for food
boulders in alleyway
1909
I Want to Ride My Bicycle

Morning of August 6, 2015. Thursday.

I am with an unknown male though also sense Zsuzsanna is around at one point. I am going with him to an unknown location, though I think it has something to do with recovering certain information on the other side of the river (possibly in a different town). We are both riding bicycles and it vaguely reminds me of riding with Kenneth W or James M at a distance (out of town or on the other side of town) that eventually seems too far, though my bicycle is functioning normally. There was another schoolmate that used to go with me most of the way home (only for a month or two), though oddly, I do not recall his name (one of the only names I had forgotten in my lifetime, in fact) and this may be the character I am thinking of. It seems fairly late at night and I can just barely make out land features.

We reach a bridge over water and cross it about halfway and I soon see it is slightly inclined to where it goes down into the water, submerged from there. This surprises me, as I thought the other male knew where he was going, though now it seems he is gone (or perhaps somehow already got to the other side). I am trying to remember if he did get to the other side (with a brief impression that he was in the water for a short time). I am not sure what to do. I am not sure if I should ride my bicycle over the surface of the water, ride in while half-submerged (with the bicycle wheels half-submerged as I cross the river) or just keep going and see what happens (though I do not really want to ride completely underwater). My dilemma causes my dream to slowly fade. I have had numerous similar dreams of partly submerged bridges and docks throughout my life since childhood. I suspect it directly relates to the waking process or state of consciousness itself as many other in-dream predicaments do (for example, a car crash may solely metaphorically represent the waking process and the termination of the temporary dream-self).

I might as well include another non-lucid dream with this entry since there is not that much to it. Caution: Violence at end. Skip to avoid.

I am shopping in a store I buy food at in real life, though it is quite different. I am looking in a very large freezer (much deeper than in reality - and it seemingly has no shelves) where there are mostly meat pie packages and a few other frozen items. I hold the glass door open for awhile and am somewhat annoyed as there is not that much food in normal packaging in the entire freezer (which is nearly the entire length of the aisle). What little items there are, are sitting on large cardboard boxes (I assume they are unopened stock) and there are also a few smaller boxes on top (a couple being open) and I contemplate getting out whatever I need as I thus far only have one meat pie package (probably containing about four to six meat pies). There are only a few loose items strewn about the top of the stack that I want to look at or perhaps buy.

I then see that there are three people on the other side of the boxes who are standing within the larger freezer area itself, the boxes of which are at least three rows deep and stacked to above the waist. There are two females and a male and at least two of them have clipboards and appear to be taking some sort of inventory. They are a bit to the left. I reach over to the right and move a couple smaller lighter boxes to get to another product, which may be the only one left.

“Why don’t you go somewhere else instead of f–king around here?” asks the male (who may be the store’s manager), sounding very annoyed. This surprises me because I am a customer in a grocery store just trying to reach a product. I inform the man that I am leaving (and I do) and that I will make sure none of my friends or family ever shop there again. (In real life, I no longer shop in the grocery store that absurdly promotes self-service through the cramped and problematic small self-service section with a trolley-full of groceries while the cashiers just stand around gawking as all the normal checkouts are blocked off.)

From here, I walk home (rather than continuing to do any shopping elsewhere), though the location and building is not that familiar, yet I know I live there with my family. It vaguely reminds me of some sort of unlikely composite of Duffy Street (Australia) and Arcadia’s North Monroe (where I have not lived since early 1968). There are many young people running around randomly in the front yard, perhaps involved in some sort of game (like informal soccer) or party, though there does not seem to be any order to any of it and some of them seem to be wearing very strange and random outfits. It may be some sort of high school or college event, such as a semester break (though I do not know why they picked this area as they obviously do not all live in the area).

As I decide to go around and enter my home through the back of the building to avoid collision or confrontation with what may be a chaotic group of addled college or high school students, a (unfamiliar and unknown) girl who seems friendly joins me. We walk to an area near the back of my apartment building (which at this point looks a bit like the apartment building across the yard from where I lived at North Monroe). The back of my building has a door to enter the premises (at about the middle of the walkway from where we are), though directly to my right seems to be another tall building so that it is like looking into a narrow alleyway. There are several boulders and large rocks within the alleyway which are blocking my way to the door (though realistically, it would be ridiculous to assume someone or even several people put them there by hand). “Who did this? How are people supposed to get into their apartment?” I ask the girl (who is standing to my left) angrily. The girl leads me to the other side of the building where the rocks are now mysteriously gone just from looking through the opposite side of the alleyway.

From here, we get to the back entrance where there is a screen door. A tall young unfamiliar male (though he seems almost thirty when I look again even though I first get the impression he might be a college football player) comes out asking “How are you doing, dad?” as if with mindless sarcasm related to my age (and I am at my own home after all and I assume he is not supposed to be there). At this point, I am annoyed, as I reach semi-lucidity and the waking stage at the same time. In previous dreams I used to shoot every annoying character during the waking process. This time I pull out a large knife and effectively run it across his throat as I wake.

This last part was strongly influenced by the “Secrets and Lies” television miniseries filmed where we used to live (where the father goes to get his oldest daughter and is insulted and pushed and told to leave by the younger male as if he had no right to look after his own children), where the little girl turns out to be the clever criminal and killer rather than the suspicious adult males or other characters. Sorry for giving it away but at least I spared you the misery of watching it. And yes, it was supposed to be a serious detective show.

submerged bridge
dream dictionaries
riding a bicycle
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boulders in alleyway
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shopping for food
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rude store manager
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theta b3.0
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