I am in a stadium-type building with Nyght. We sit near this girl who is drawing with oil-pastels. She’s drawing a portrait, but what really has my attention is the bag near the paper she is drawing on. In the side pocket, there’s a bunch of necklace cords hanging out. Out of curiosity, I pull the cords out in one big handful and see they’re all like the necklace I wear all the time- a silver “Z” charm next to a white feather. “That’s a lot of Zs,” I say. The drawing girl thought that I was interested in her drawing and looks a bit let down that I was focused on something else. I tell her that her drawing is good, which it really is.
Me and Nyght go to this large, abandoned bathroom, which is really disgusting and not kept at all. It looks like something you’d find in the post-apocalypse. The ground is brown with grime, and most of the stalls are toppled over and rusting. On a table between the stalls and the door, I am shocked to find a pile of papers and notebooks from my childhood- things I was sure I lost long ago. I find a few old notebooks that I filled with hand-written dreams, and even a few worksheets from psychology class when we spent a week recording our dreams. I never thought I’d see these things again.
Weston opens the doors to the bathroom and tells us that we better leave before we’re caught in here. I now realize that I need to use an actual functional bathroom. I tell Nyght that I need to use the toilet before we get on the road, and he tells me we’ll find a better bathroom.
Now I’m participating in a feminism protest competition with Mary. We have made banners, painted posters, and have a map set of our march path- which is weaving around these giant grocery-store isle that are outside randomly. They’re like streets, only instead of buildings it’s shelves. Everything has a purple and blue hue, and the sky is like dawn- half light blue half dark blue, and all filled with dazzling stars.
Looking at the map that is laid out on some tables me, Mary, and the rest of our team are working on, I see that the route needs to change in order to reach more people.
It’s our turn to march now, and just before we go- everyone in our group decides to give up. I don’t give up, however. I decide to do it alone- to follow through with what we started. I hold up my picket and march down the isles, chanting the chant that we had planned. I reach an isle titled “Burger Isle”, which I know was not part of the original march. Mary joins me before I start down the isle, and the others in our group join back in soon after.
Once our route is complete, we wait anxiously near the screen to see the results. The screen is fixed on the side of a rock cliff/wall. We figure we won’t win the competition because of the first half being just me.
The results are up, and we scored a 178. Mary and the others burst into cheer and hugs. I’m confused, completely clueless as to what the 178 means. Mary says that the team that was in first place had 172 points, so we passed them. We won!
Now we all sit at a table with our mothers, celebrating with dinner. One of our friends is in football. We all ask how training is going, but his answers are allusive. He says that the team doesn’t keep any weakness around. What we don’t know is that one of his legs is beefy and strong, while the other is scrawny and practically useless. His dark skin is smooth and velvety everywhere else, but on that leg the skin is peeling, scaly, and even rotting. No one but he knows about this secret. The only time he has that leg uncovered is when he’s alone in the basement, working on play strategies on a chalkboard alone at night. If anyone were to find out, he’d be kicked off the team and that would be devastating to him.
One of the mothers, further into dinner, suddenly goes a bit sideways after some comment is made. She’s the mother to a tall blond guy, who’s sort of jocky and has short-cut hair, yet he enjoys hanging out with us. It’s no secret that his mother wants him to hang out with the popular kids rather than us “heathens”. What we don’t expect is her to stand up from her seat and declare that her son will never be in our friendship circle again- all because of one comment. She’s dragging him away, as we try to keep him here. A girl who has an obvious mutual crush on the guy, clings to his arm in a desperate attempt to stop the mother from taking him away. The boy’s face is blank and devastated. He’s torn between obeying his family’s wishes and doing what makes him most happy. The entire situation is awful. [End]
Relative to Real Life~
Night of January 20th, 2015
Real-life characters: Weston, Mary.
Dream-created characters: Girl drawing, Nyght, protest group, mothers, football guy, jocky guy, girl with crush on guy.
Real-life places: None.
Dream-created places: Stadium, bathroom, isle-streets, Burger Isle, place with the screen, table.
Different than real life: I’ve seen Weston maybe twice since we graduated in 2011, me and Mary haven’t been friends for years- about around 2010, I’ve never taken part in a feminism protest- or any other kind of protest actually.
Reoccurring: Nyght, a dream-created character, is a character reoccurring in many of my dreams.
Precognitive: No experiences yet.
