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1159
Finding the Stray's Home

I’m sitting in my car at night in a snow covered parking lot while my mom and grandpa stand out in the cold to smoke. I decide to drive off. At first I’m angry and just want to go home and leave them. Halfway there I figure I’ll loop back around for them and tell them I just wanted to go for a little drive while they had their cigarettes.
Before I turn around, a dog sitting on top of a trashcan at a house to my right catches my eye. The dog jumps down, and I put my car into park despite being in the middle of the street. I call the dog and am surprised when he comes to me. I manage to get a hold on his collar, and look at his tags. One is blue in the shape of a flower, the other is silver. I can’t make out the name because it’s mangled. I pick the once-lab sized dog, now lap-dog sized dog in my arms, and tell Finnick who is suddenly with me, that we need to find his home. The only bit I can make out on the tag is Vegas Street. I look around and sure enough, right on the corner I see a street sign that says Vegas Street.
Me and Finnick leave the car and carry the dog door to door down this street. The environment is no longer outside. Ever door and house-front is arranged like a hotel. Though the ceiling is four or so stories up and shrouded in black, it is there. Finally we show the dog to an old man that says that he know’s who the owner is. Before we leave to excitedly reunite them, the old man insists we put the dog in a ceramic picnic basket despite our polite declines. I’m surprised at how much easier it is to carry the dog in this thing. It’s so light, it almost feels like the dog isn’t in it at all. Once me and Finnick are outside, I peek under the lid, to see the reason the container is so light.
I storm back inside the old man’s house, and toss the empty basket to the ground. “It was a magic trick! You never put the dog in the basket at all! Where is he!?” I demand. The man doesn’t answer. I run out and start to run down the street. We cross an ally into another street which is also inside. This street feels like a mall, with few stores. The only that we come up on first is actually the back room of the craft store I regularly go to. Next is a tire store which is clearly closed since all the lights are off and no one is around. Finnick doesn’t want to be looking for the dog anymore, but I insist. We both get stubborn, and finally I say, “Fine! You go then, I’m staying!” I run between the clothing racks and back into the “street”, but Finnick catches me effortlessly and tackles me to the ground.
Next thing I know, I’m giving the “dog” back to the woman. However, because I know I didn’t find the dog, I think to myself, “I have to construct a pet in this dream, to tie it up”. I had the woman an orange juice bottle that is soft like jello. She’s so excited to have her “pet” back, and places “him” on the top shelf of her fridge with verve. [End]

Relative to Real Life~
Night of March 12th, 2014
Real-life characters: Mom, Papa, Finnick (Catching Fire “Sam Claflin”).
Dream-created characters: Dog, old man.
Real-life places: Parking lot kinda looks like the parking lot outside the grocery store I go to a lot, the street I find the dog is the street I take to go home from work.
Dream-created places: Vegas Street, other street.
Different than real life: As far as I’m aware there is no Vegas Street in my town, I’ve never had a lost dog actually come up to me before even when I call, I’ve never driven away from my mom or grandpa, it’s no longer snowy- all the snow’s melted off.
Reasons:
Finnick = I just watched Catching Fire the night before I dreamt this dream.
Reoccurring: No.
Precognitive: No experiences.

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