Blame yourself or blame Halloween (fuck you for ruining FFT's translation, Square), but I ended up taking a nap rather than watching a movie. It was kind of accidental. I went to my bedroom to call Gamestop, flopped on my bed for the duration of the call, and by the time I hung up the cat was on my belly curled up, so I decided to rest for a few minutes. Then a few hours. Oh well, it happens.
It should be noted that I have been taking DMAE lately, which amongst several notable effects, appears to cause especially realistic dreams (no matter how strange the actual dream is), gifting you with remembering it. This particular effect is somewhat pronounced in me. Since I know very few people that take the substance, I don't have a fair idea on how it affects everyone's dreams, but in the past, on more than one occasion, it has been the vivid, and thus sometimes terrifying and unsettling dreams, that have gotten me off the horse, despite the positive effects of DMAE.
Dreams are dreams. I don't recall everything, but the first thing I clearly recall is being on a high school campus in an area like the one I grew up in. I was not a student; no, this was not a typically fucking terrifying high school dream where you wake up afterwards ands till half-think you missed homeroom before you realize you are 26 and have been out of high school for 8 years. The circumstances are foggy, but I was helping a coach clean up after some sort of memorial event for a student that recently killed himself, via accident or suicide. I recall moving things into a scary warehouse area. There's more to it than this, but it doesn't make a lot of sense (dreams lol final fantasy tactics old awesome translation lol).
I eventually returned to another somewhat creepy task: going door to door in a small town very reminiscent of where I grew up (but decidedly not firmly based off any one town I grew up around) trying to get donations for. . .something. Let me retcon this portion and say that I think it did directly tie in to the first part, if only because the dream kind of comes full circle (well, for a dream) in the end. We'll pretend I was trying to get donations for a memorial fund (I really think I was working for a newspaper doing something, but oh well).
So I'm going door to door, arbitrarilly harassing people for donations, or doing something for a newspaper. Every house I end up stopping by has some sort of weird circumstance going on. The first house ends up being the home of parents of an old friend. They readily identify who I am, and it's mentioned that they haven't seen their son in years. It's a sad setup. All these houses are gloomy and sad. The next house is an acquaintance of the killed high school student from the first portion, and I am recognized from the memorial event and there is awkwardness because there are dead people. The next house, well, gets its own paragraph.
I end up in an apartment building. It's easiest to call it that, though it is somewhat inaccurate. A row home converted into several apartments is what it was. Only one place in the building was occupied, and events become detached here. I'm not sure how it fits in the story, but I ended up helping the resident of the apartment do something by going into a dark, underground set of utility tunnels, where we eventually retrieved some sort of contract. It was basically an RPG fetch quest in dream, I guess. More of a visuals thing than the previous two houses, but the tunnel was dark, and wet, and there was lots of concrete and dust in the air. After I helped them do whatever, I moved on to the next location.
The strangest of all, it was. I walk into the house, and there's a husband and wife. The husband is up and about, minding things that need minding, and the wife is in the kitchen area, bawling. I end up in the kitchen. It's all. . .quaint. Not as grey and yucky as everything else. I inquire about what is going on, and a newspaper is pointed out to me, which has a photo of the kitchen on the front of it. The husband (or wife, I forget) tells me how they just came home from something, and they found the severed heads of five of their children in a garbage bag stuffed in the oven which was turned on. Naturally, I turn my head to the oven hoping for a bit of it; the oven door is ajar, but inside there are no decapitated heads; no, there is just a large-sized chicken casserole. I thought that was kind of funny.
Not sure how much I am skipping. I may be adept at remembering my dreams these days, but you never have full recall. I end up eventually getting a ride back to my place from an acquaintance. It was a real life acquaintance of mine; a legit friend. He tells me something about how he stopped by my place and brought a package inside, because it was kind of big and thus an easy target.
So I walk back into my house--indeed my house, the one I grew up in--and I walk around the house for a bit until I remember the package. I go to the back room, where the package is. Inside the package is this 4ft by 2ft cross between a concrete, Berlin Wall-esque sculpture and the kind of stupid ass sign you see at a high school football game. Along with the sculpture, there is some sort of indication that this was sent to me from the coach at the beginning of the story. The big words on the item were your typical GO TEAM GO rah rah sort of thing, except my name was on it, so it was like GO WHITE MAN GO!
It was a rather strange dream. Then I woke up and it was 11PM.
