Tag: wallets

I Have Very Little Money In My Wallet But I’m Really Fond Of It

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that I’m at the park playing foosball with friends. Someone comes to tell me that my wallet was found, why did I leave my bag unattended on a bench? I look inside and I’m missing 110 bucks, I’m very upset and ask around for information, nobody has seen anything. The park owner, who looks like an actual mobster, is making fun of me.

Flash forward to the court case: I’m accusing park owner of theft and apparently I have very compelling evidence. My aunt M. is my lawyer, instead of a black court gown she’s wearing a sparkly white dress, she looks like Elsa. I’m really looking forward to hear this hard evidence, but I wake up.

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A Wallet Lost In Time

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

I dream that I jump back to the 1900s. There is a pretty girl very surprised to see me standing there in her house, wearing pants.

That night we go together to the town festival. The trees are blooming even though it’s fall, I feel a bit spooked. I realize my wallet is missing and someone must have stolen it from my pocket. I have no choice but jump back to the start of the evening.

The girl and I go to a local seamstress, I ask if my grandmother left any of her clothes to mend. I hope I can get my hands on a bag to carry my wallet in. The seamstress says that, oh yes, she left plenty of clothes without ever coming back to collect them, she was just about to throw away the whole lot.

I say, my grandma is almost 90, you can’t expect her to remember things. Then I ask if she has a spare bag, she gives me a Bart Simpson backpack.

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Little Bigot

Posted on by Decade Dream Journal

Aunt T., the one I hate, has a granddaughter. My sister knocks on the door to ask if I would like to meet this child, I say no, absolutely not, I can’t make exceptions. The little girl is already here though, peeking from behind the door, a blonde angel of ten. She’s so adorable I can’t help but letting her in, I tickle her and blow soap bubbles to make her laugh. The child asks to see my ID card and I think, strange, but why not? I send my sister to retrieve my wallet, and as soon as the she sees my ID the kid attacks me! She says she can’t allow mutants and modified humans to exist. Great, I think, she’s a racist like her aunt.

( Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash )

My sister and I are now on the run from the little girl. We escape through various international cities, I remember one has pyramids even though we are in the US. All around us mutants are being abducted and killed. You can’t tell them apart from regular humans unless you have X-Ray vision to check if their bones are made of metal. A man approaches us, promises he’ll lead us to safety. We’re wary at first, but an X-ray scan reveals he’s actually Frozone. Relieved, we follow him.

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