Dream, June Twenty-nine, Two-thousand Ten.

I'm really sorry I suck at this, you guys. Today I got home and there were a billion family members everywhere, and then I had to clean up my room like a person who has OCD and who relies on cleaning things to stay sane.

I don't feel like I have time to put up a post before it's Friday (and I did promise that this blog would be updated Mondays and Thursdays) so I am going to be lazy and put up something I have already written.

Most people don't know this, but since May Twenty-Fifth of this year I have been recording my dreams when I can remember them. I have roughly thirty dreams recorded, some of them paragraphs long and some of them only a brief scene I can scarcely recall.

Below is a dream I had last month, and I hope it will suffice until next Monday. I tried to pick one in which there weren't any people I knew, and one that didn't contain weird cultural references or memories only I would know about. I also rewrote it slightly, to make it easier for you guys.

Dream, June Twenty-nine, Two-thousand Ten.

It's nighttime. I'm walking around in a parking lot, large supermarket to my right; I have no idea what I'm doing. As I walk around I begin to get flashbacks of what happened in this world. Earth basically fell apart, as resources were depleted, and it became polluted and run-down. People drove their cars, sure, but eventually there wasn't any gas to make them run. Not even the nearest planet cared enough to help them out [Editor's Note: I guess this was the future and we had reached the stars somehow]. Eventually people began taking their cars and burning them to create huge signs, beckoning those on the other planet to come engage in their drug-fueled parties and orgies. Some simply said the name of the planet, which might have been SODEXO, while other had messages as inane as FRANK DILLON IS AWESOME.

In spite of the apocalyptic flashback I had, everything around me seemed contradictory to what I had envisioned. The supermarket to my right appeared extremely well stocked, albeit closed, and as I hide in the parking lot, back against the tire of a parked car and two white pillows under my head, a truck pulls in front of me. I hold my breath and hope I blend into the darkness. I have documents and I need to bring them somewhere, so I rise and talk to the portly man in the truck.

A little ways off, near where the parking lot ends, I see a leather messenger bag with a gun and an axe inside of it. I leave it alone. A man who looks like a bum tells me to just take it, so I walk over, place my documents inside of it, and begin to head off. The owner comes over and says, "That's mine," so I take out my stuff and hand him the bag. "Man, you one badass mofo," I tell him. I begin following him. We walk away from the department store and its parking lot, into the woods.

As we near the woods I spy a really old looking book, which I pick up and put my papers into. The man who looks like a bum begins begging us to take him and let him follow us, but we ignore him. He begins grabbing onto me, almost as if he's trying to climb on my back. The owner of the bag comes over and begins grappling with him, and I can tell he's going to be the one to protect me and keep me safe; no one's going to mess with this guy. I grab a blue ballpoint pen from a pile I see on the forest floor.

The man is dealt with, and we begin to continue on into the forest. A second man, the driver of the pickup, I think, is behind us. He reminds me of the big white guy in Remember the Titans. We begin to cross a bridge, and from where he starts yelling at us. "Why you gotta cross a bridge that's too wide?" It wasn't that wide.