I think I might need to write a book one day, which I will need to publish under a pseudonym and that would be because it would definitely require a warning about antidepressants and a requirement from pharmaceuticals to do something about the crazy dreams I keep having.
Case in point:
I’m with a group of guys (I don’t know, but I seem to in this reality), a guy is walking me around a shop pointing out which things to grab. He seems not to care who sees or hears him. We are in a shop with jewellery, crystals and incense. There are a lot of crystal figurines and such, it’s not a place I recognise.
Later in the evening, I’m back in the shop with now a group of guys, I’m walking around grabbing the items that were earlier pointed out to me. I put my hand into my bag and pull out my Nanna granny shopping bag. I find it’s inside out and I can’t quickly put it in the right way one handed. I ask the guy closest to me if he will help and we both notice at the same time he has a matching bag. We wordlessly brush it off. Embarrassing and I put the items in my bag anyway.
We escape the shop as the police arrive, darting down a quiet street in a residential area. It’s a long weekend and there are a few taxi’s about to fill up with families, young children and luggage. There are terrace houses, I don’t recognise with small front yards and a footpath that cuts along the first of all of them.
I’m alone now, walking along the footpath that is raised up along an embankment. I don’t remember which house I’m to go in. I’m not faster than the guys, just got there a different way. Two of the guys are now nearby telling me which house to duck into.
Later, I’m moving through a busy marketplace and going down some metal stairs with a handrail. Not very accessible but I manage going down my left foot on each step.
Left foot. Left foot.
My adrenaline is rushing. I get to the bottom of the steps and I’m in a weird kinda tattoo/hairdressers. One of the guys I was with earlier is standing there and before he had longer hair and now, he has a very blunt doo at just under his ears. Not stylish at all. While we are not alone, I still give him some sass. I give him some shit about his new hairdo, it’s terrible.
It was done so he can be unrecognisable if he is caught. All of a sudden, I realise my hair is down, all curly and fluffy around my shoulders. I feel the whizzing around my head.
Next, the police come in behind me, I’m on my knees and the haircut is nearly complete. My lost vision as I came awake is me with a mostly buzzed off hairstyle with what was left of my hair coming out from somewhere off the top/back of my head, a long thick dry messy plait.
I’m told, dreams are from a parallel universe, I just think pharmaceutical companies could do something better.
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I woke from this dream this morning and it’s taken all day to write it own. Are your dreams as vivid?