An open record of things people cannot explain

Place withheld · 2014-05-18 · from the DREAMVIEWS archive

An account

On my way to work, I make a stop to pick up my bicycle. I forgot my shoes, but that is okay. My friend <PERSON> and I, instead of getting shoes, turn our lower bodies into different things... Bulls, dogs, dresses, motorcycles, etc. Every other thing we change our legs into is neon green, the other being regular color. We both settle on dogs for legs to pick up chicks. Walking around town, it certainly gets girls' attention. They want to pet them. My dog is on a leash, a medium poodle variety. Now with regular legs and a dog, the dog pulls hard on the leash, very strong, and very excited to see people. One of the girls offers to hold the leash, but I do not think she is strong enough to do it. I walk off on my own, holding a sign instead of a leash, following another guy who is also holding a sign. "This is silly" I tell myself as I stop following him, and go inside a nearby building. Inside, I offend an old friend from High School, who starts to escort me outside to severely beat me up. I realize what he is going to do, and run back inside to lose him. Normally, I would easily outrun him, he is a lot bigger than I am, but I am slower than usual, and he tails me quite well up several stories of this building. He yells at me, "You are scaring the occupants by running so fast!" in an attempt to catch me. I reach the top floor, and go back down another stairway. To pick up speed, I slide down the banisters, and jump several steps at a time. He too jumps some steps, but my banister sliding moves put some distance between us. Bolting outside, I duck into a crowd and continue to run. I pass by some good friends from school who yell something at me, but I do not stop. I lay down on the slope of a hill, looking back at where I ran from. No sign of Justin, I must have lost him. There is a fugitive next to me, also hiding here. I idly play with a plastic bag as I nervously wait for something to happen. The fugitive loudly proclaims, "That is my bag!" The police overhear us, and send the Irish government our way. They stop at the top of the hill and throw propaganda at us. One of the packets they throw looks decent, good graphics and all.

 

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This dream journal entry comes from the DreamViews research corpus (CC BY-NC 4.0), anonymised by its authors before release. We reproduce it with attribution and remove anything on request.