I dream that I want to go visit my penpal C., I take the wrong train going the opposite direction. I jump off the train and get on a bus, it goes the wrong direction too, I’m angry with the driver for some reason. I finally get to her house one day later; she’s so angry I have to hypnotize her and her whole family so they’ll forgiving me.
Tag: buses
Happy Summer!
I dream that I’m looking after a neighbor’s adorable baby girl, she starts throwing up and I call a doctor. I go out for a bit she’s dead and they’re holding her wake.
Then I dream that we’re about to sit at Christmas dinner with the whole family in our mountain house, I also invited a few friends, four girls from the early 1900s who are studying to become career women, lawyers, scientists etc. The table is outside and it’s night, a bunch of people arrive singing carols. My late Grandpa P. gets up and throws a golden key at the crowd, a man catches it and demands to sleep with me. I tell him to go to hell. We all go home on a rented bus, I’m distraught because I can’t find my jacket.
I Wasn’t Anywhere Near This, Not Even Watching From A Screen
I dream about a young man, a butler maybe, who has just murdered the old lord he works for. He leaves the manor with no rush, it’s a Saturday and he knows the gardener won’t be back to discover the body until Monday. He goes home and carefully plans his escape along with his girlfriend. On Monday morning, they drive away in the fog. A young detective arrives too late and find their house empty. He wears thick glasses and his face is calm, emotionless.
Years pass. The murdered and his girl are now married, they’re currently on a tour bus. Around them, people are singing church songs and clapping to the music. A car flanks the bus, it’s the detective, now with a balding head and a mustache. Police swarm the bus, they arrest the murderer, drag him away. As the other passengers protest, the detective looks up at them from the car window, and very calmly states,
Don’t worry about it. He shot a man in the head.
Nobody seems to notice the wife, nobody arrests her. She goes on to live her life and raise her kids, scot-free.
It’s Supposed To Be West, But After All We Are All East Of Something
I dream that I travel back to 1891 and I should never do that, I should always go forward, because now I have a small sister, just a child with big, brown, sad eyes, and our father has given her up in marriage. She’s so small, but there’s nothing I can do to help.
I dream that I’m travelling on a bus with a group of friends. We reach the East Coast and it’s my home town, somehow? A boy with a guitar joins us after I watch his Youtube videos. We dig a long tunnel to the nearest Gucci store, stop at an underground dance party that looks out of West Side Story. We are hideous dancer, we look for a more amateurish party. We noticed another room in the tunnel with beautiful chandelier lights shining in the dark, we stop there but it’s not a dance floor, it’s a church and there are coffins on the benches.
In Which I Just Wanna Go Home
I dream that I stop at a stationary store. As I’m buying two pens (a fine liner and a brush pen) the owner tells me the store is going out of business. I crumple on the floor crying. This was the last stationary store in town, I sob, what am I gonna do now?! The pens cost five bucks, I’m so upset I demand to only pay three.
Instead of going home I end up at the mall to blow out some steam. I decide to take a bus to go back, I don’t have a ticket but I can always pretend I forgot it. It’s too late when I realize the bus is going the wrong way. How am I going home now? We arrive at a small rocky alley, the driver makes us all get out of the bus, we dismantle the roof and carry it to the other side. Above our heads there are tall, narrow houses made of white rock. From a balcony, my late great-aunt E. waves at me. She looks like she always did, with her white hair in a tight bun. She asks how my parents are.
I dream that I’m taking my telemarketing job to the next level and selling door-to-door. I arrive at the house of an old man called Peter Minniti, he is apparently a great politician of yonder. His house is a small villa outside Florence, it’s late evening and he’s a bit upset about the intrusion, but his wife makes me tea. I try to sell him a phone subscription, he agrees to come by the store and asks for my number. I can’t seem to be able to type it in his phone and it’s getting late, so late, I’m sweating with anxiety. I eventually write it down on a piece of paper and leave in a hurry.
It’s so dark outside, I don’t know my way. I send my car forward on its own, then realize I was supposed to sent it north, and north is the opposite way! What can I do? Start walking and hope for the best? The old politician and his wife appear on their window and tell me they saw pictures of my nephew on Instagram, I don’t know what to say to that. A funeral procession passes by.
I walk and walk and walk and know I will never reach home, and then I realize I can just wake up and be home in a second.
So Recurring It’s Boring
I dream that it’s raining and I’m late for school, again. As I rush out I see a delivery guy throwing a package against my door. I ask, what the hell?! He says
Miss, it’s raining and I’m tired.
Instead of going to school I find myself at the mall. It’s okay, I think, no one will ever know. Maybe I could even go to the black mall that only seems to exist in my dreams. I’d catch a bus ride if only I could remember the name.
Eden, maybe?
A man is following me, some kind of pervert. I call security on him. Great, now I’ll have to testify at his trial and my parent will know I skipped school.
What if they fail me this year? My sister is back home again and now we’ll have to compete for jobs as well. I decide I should look into hologram technology, if they’re realistic enough my sister will go back to her place and still feel like she’s having dinner with us every night.
Warning: Somewhat Horror (Also, Sorry, Mom)
I dream that my mother and I are taking part in a horror tour. It’s night when our bus arrives at a haunted old mansion, we get inside along with all the other guests, cheering and laughing.
The mansion is haunted alright, but I soon figure out the ghosts and other scary presences (mostly dead girls, pale, bleeding) cannot be touched and can’t harm us in any way. I feel relieved, amused, even. There’s something else about the house though, something odd: it seems to be able to read our minds. I can think about anything I want, anything at all, and the house makes it happen.
I want to buy a souvenir. I see a dish set hanging from the wall, beautiful golden and white plates. As soon as I think it the set flies into my arms and the money leaves my bank account, just like magic. I ask for the check and it’s projected directly into my brain. I say out loud I’d rather have a paper copy and a young maid brings it to me. She says,
Thank you, these numbers will help me win the lottery, back in 2005.
I go back to the bus and realize my mother is nowhere to be found. As I’m starting to worry she finally runs out from the main door, looking frantic, screaming, her face contorted with fear. A waiter is following her, his white shirt covered in yellow puke. I have a moment of terrifying realization: this cannot be my mother. She would never act like this. This is a ghost trying to escape, and my real mother is still trapped inside.
Everybody begs me to stop, but I’m already running back. The doors close behind me, the tour bus leaves, and with a shiver I realize I’m the one being trapped here. Just like the house wanted.
I wake up and fall back to sleep. Now I’m at home, waiting for the police to arrive. A man with round glasses has showed me the future, I know I’m wanted, I know the police will seize all my favorite pens (I hide them, just in case), and I know that my mother will be arrested as well.
I see a police car and a van arriving and parking outside. As I open the door I tell my parents to stay calm: surely it’s all a mistake, if we explain ourselves we can avoid any trouble. I open the door and dozens upon dozens of officers pour in. Most of them go directly to my bedroom (my poor pens!) but their chief stays to interrogate me. She’s a blonde woman, tall, extremely beautiful but there’s something cold in her eyes, something not human. I realize in a moment she’s one of the ghosts from the hunted house, and she wants to steal my body and give it to one of her ghosts friends.
Years later I get out of prison. The beautiful blonde chief is waiting for me and we kiss passionately. Am I still me? Am I a ghost? I cannot tell. Flash forward a few more years, I’m on boat on a stormy ocean. The boat sinks and I wash ashore on a beautiful island. I lost my memory.
My alarm rings.
Trip to IKEA!
I dream that my Gran lives in a pretty little town. I go visit her. There is an IKEA nearby and a bus that can take us directly there so we plan our trip, but as we go I realize I forgot my purse and face mask, I have to run back to the house.
I collect my things and go back again. The town is beautiful, there are churches and a big white monument, I wish I could take pictures but the phone in my pocket is my old 2000s Nokia. I find Gran sitting at the bus stop chatting with some ladies. They send me to a nearby pizza takeout to buy our bus tickets, the owners speak German for some reason (maybe I am in Germany??) but they understand my English. They want to be paid in Marks, I’m confused because I only have Euros with me.
(I should add that while all this happened I was somewhat aware I was dreaming, I kept waking up and stubbornly going back to sleep because I really wanted to go to IKEA. I couldn’t tell you if it was a dream in a dream situation or I was legit waking up for a second or two.)
We finally reach IKEA and it’s nothing like the real thing, more like a bazar. There’s only one type of item I’m looking forward to: stationary! I spend ten minutes agonizing over washi tapes, much to the other costumers’ annoyance. I finally select one with fish illustrations. I’m moving on to stickers, when a woman stops me and ask for help picking a fountain pen. I’m wearing a red polo shirt and she must have mistaken me for an employee, she’s so disappointed when I tell her I’m not she violently wakes me up.
DECADE DREAM JOURNAL 