let’s just say I have an active dream-life

Last night was a breakthrough. I had a dream that remained consistent throughout, even though I woke up umpteengillion times. Please, no judgement, the dream is as follows:

My sister and I are at some kind of weird rave near the common in my hometown. The scene is bizarre – and not in a good way. the vibe is dark, the crowd is sparse, and nobody is dancing. I find a friend (in real life some random straight-edge guy from high school) who offers to split his drugs with me. So I buy some and I swallow some. Meanwhile, an ex-boyfriend of mine drives up in a hummer and offers to drive me and my sister home. Bored, we agree. But he ditches us in the middle of a field somewhere. While sitting in the field, figuring out what to do next, a beefy man drives up and arrests us. We are taken, in his car, to what apparently is a detox facility. Once there, we are stripped, showered, fed, yelled at by the beefy man, and then herded into a van and driven for miles and miles into the mountains. Our destination is a large, ominous house perched on the ledge of a cliff. All the doors are locked, and we are allowed no communication with each other or the outside world. Being the wild one I am, I escape after curfew and visit with some friendly hippies in the house next door. They tell me that they are all escapees from the detox facility and that I should stay with them. Of course, I can’t do that because my sister is still inside the creepy house with the beefy man.

Morning dawns, we are herded back into the van and driven back to the facility where we are again fed and showered. I begin to think it odd that, apparently, the detox program consists solely of eating and sleeping. Outside the cafeteria, our mother is waiting for us. She is oddly calm, considering her strong anti-drug stance. My sister and she have a nice conversation while I notice that my wallet has been torn apart and my credit cards are scattered all over the inside of my purse. (don’t ask me why I still have my purse) Confronting the beefy man about this abuse of my rights to privacy, he begins screaming that he found several tabs of acid in my wallet and i begin screaming at him that he is a liar and that I haven’t even been NEAR acid in years. (privately I am wondering if he could be telling the truth and maybe I forgot about buying acid. then I think, no, I wouldn’t forget about something like that) I go back into the cafeteria to get a cup of tea. While I am in the caf, the van carrying my sister and the beefy man departs for the creepy house without me. Fearing repercussion, I run to the front of the facility seeking council, and find my father standing in the doorway.

(this is where shit gets weird)

I immediately start freaking out and beg him to check me out of the detox, sobbing that I am NOT on drugs, there was only that once at the rave and even so, we were unjustly arrested. We begin walking (walking? he must have had a car) down the road, as I try to remember the way to the creepy house and regale him with the story of our incarceration. We come upon the road to the creepy house and instead of walking up the road, jump into an acqueduct-type-thing, apparently seeking a shortcut.

OK. So picture that there is a central pillar with horizontal protrusions spiraling out from the middle, apparently made so that people can jump across and up without getting wet. Kind of like in a video game. Me and Dad start leaping across these things, when I come to a set that is too far to span with a single bound. Unhesitating, I plunge into the water, only to realize that the drugs I bought at the rave are still (somehow) in my pocket and are not probably dissolving in the water. I am hoping that they are not able to be absorbed by the skin, otherwise both myself and my father (who jumped in the water after me) will be right fucked. My dad boosts me up so that I can pull myself up onto the stone slab, and he, in a herculean feat of strength, does a chin-up and lifts himself up.

Here the dream takes a turn of the “choose your own adventure” variety. In one ending, my father has a heart attack. In another, I decide to leave him on the slab and go for help. In another, we both make it out. And in the final ending, the one I take to the last hit of the snooze button, my father somehow disappears and instead I am reunited with my mother and sister and am informed that we have finished our detox and can go home. I am tempted to stay, because the cafeteria food is really not half bad, and there are those fun hippies on the mountain, but in the end link arms with my sister and follow my mother to the car, where we ride off into the drug-free sunset.

HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT.

If anyone made it though this diatribe, I heartily commend you. For all those who found it tedious, my apologies. I like to have some record of my more self-referential dreams and blogger seems to be an easy way to keep one. Of course then you wind up posting, for the whole internet to see, all your weirdest, most subliminal thoughts so that’s the downside, I guess. Cheers!

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