Category Archives: Military and Police

The Death of a Stalker

In truth, I can’t feel that bad for her. Originally Aris tried to get me to feel bad for her as this poor transgendered woman who can’t come out of the closet and he’s trying to rescue her to garner my sympathy… Then a professor snapped me out of it when she saw I was sympathizing with someone who threatened my sense of safety as a brand new mom and painted me as crazy so Kai didn’t have to take ownership of her actions. Every store I walked into, she followed me. Every parking lot I crossed, she followed me, and she knew exactly where I’d be because Aris told her where I’d be. When Aris gave me a hug I watched her collapse to the ground and sob, hiding behind the bushes. Then next day he said I was crazy, she wasn’t stalking me, and the whole thing was a coincidence.

For my sense of safety, I’m glad she can’t come after me anymore. While a part of me is genuinely judgemental that I can’t look at her and feel bad, the comfort is I know others who do care enough about her to do so. At this point I refuse to call her a “him” because she doesn’t deserve that respect, and as sad as it is, I cannot mourn the loss of someone who hurt me so bad as a new mother, leaving me defenseless and weak. While I understand many trans people would say this is offensive, to those that read it and feel offended, that is their choice to personalize something that ultimately has nothing to do with them. To other trans people in my life, I use the pronouns they give and I respect them. I have no problem with the trans community and would gladly march by their side… as for Kai? This is perhaps the only dagger I have for someone who made me feel my life was on the line, and I will cling to it till I’ve moved on. Knowing the pattern of women Aris sets out for, I know she too was codependent and a victim in the end, but that doesn’t change or justify her actions or the fear she put into me. A part of me truly wants to mourn for her as say “poor thing”, but I need to learn to cling to and care about myself, and this is in part all I have.

Knowing the pattern of women Aris sets out for, I know she too was codependent and a victim in the end, but that doesn’t change her actions or the fear she put into me.

>>>>>>>>>Kai’s Death

Looking at his text I’m calling bullshit. I know the only person he’s ever mourned the loss over is himself – like when I told him he was going to be a dad, and then when he cried because he begged me for an abortion and I told him I was going to leave him… Then he popped the question and asked me to marry him. >.>’ he told me he’s never cried over the loss of his grandfather or others he’s been close too, but the difference is he’s stoic, showing no emotion once that person is gone. In the context of grief work and narcissism, where my problem is I was shamed for grieving and didn’t know how to mourn my own losses, but mourned the loss of others, I have to wonder if he’s incapable of mourning the loss of others and only for himself. This was a huge red flag and a major warning sign when he told me he’s never cried over someone passing, and now I know why. I remember asking about this in therapy, but the answer was something about how everyone grieves differently.

Aris is truly terrifying in the context of things, and although I know why I fell for him, there’s another piece of me that still begs to ask… How did I ever fall for him? I ignored all the warning signs… I should have listened to that empathy, that intuition, that small panic inside my chest, but I didn’t. People warned me to stay away from him, but I found it strange that these people were all his friends, so they were all rejecting me, not him. This not to say that because I wish I’d never been with Aris as long as I was that I’m not thankful I’m a mom or a college grad, which all came about as a result, but I could have saved myself so much heartache instead of wanting him to save me. I truly do hate him. I also hate myself. I’m sure Kai hated herself too on some level… The women I’ve crossed paths with who have fallen victim to Aris all bare that likeness.

Somehow I see him as the predator he truly is now. I’m in shock.


Blending Experiences

Yesterday I did the Hecates ceremony and a tarot reading with a few simple questions with powerful results.

Before the Hecates ceremony I caught myself in a religious state I hadn’t experienced in a long time… But the emotion was strong and intense. Whenever I prayed to God as a Seventh-day Adventist Id always end up acknowledging my flaws and inadequacies before approaching the throne of the lord, since pride is not acceptable, as it was Satans downfall. Confession is a huge part of it too, and the feeling of forgiveness helped me to feel acknowledged and connected in my religious worship and prayers. 

Coming before Hecates I noticed that same process occurring…

“What if I’m not good enough? What if I’m not worthy? It needs to be perfect so which ceremony should I go for?”

That’s when I realized she’s not God, she’s a goddess, and because of what Hecates symbolizes, I can come before her strong in who I am because she’ll accept me as a woman at the very least. I’ve been on the right path for a while, and Hecates will show me the way, since that’s why I’m coming before her in the first place. I don’t need to feel pervasive insecurity in who I am before her, and as a goddess of power, she calls me to find ways to lock on to it. 

As I did the ceremony I was surprised how grounded I was, and the expansion of the heart chakra. My crown chakra is always on overdrive when I dip into a spiritual place and yawn profusely, even though I’m not tired. Certain reading material do the same, as my healing hands book from the library does. I felt more whole, centered, calm, and deeply relaxed in my practice, and it was a sensational novelty to both create and take part of. 

After a while I took a break and did my own thing for a bit… Made the psychic tea and it was pretty tasty, though I was disappointed it wasn’t spicier. It said it had peppermint and cayenne in it, but I didn’t experience much of that. 

With time nearing midnight and needing to go to bed so I can wake up in the morning, I asked The Goddess to guide my tarot reading, and the results I got were as follows:

What is one thing I can grow through for the next few weeks:

Upside down King of swords:

Represents someone who is overly regimented and militants in their routines. They’re harsh in their judgements of others, and of anyone who does not fit into their stereotypes. Could be accused of having a narrow outlook on life, without room for accepting new people, ideas, and new situations. Key factors of this card are intolerance and narrow-mindedness. 

Should I get involved in Politics?

King of Pentacles:

Successful and powerful with a great sense of responsibility towards family, friends, career, and community. Often successful because they have someone to provide for. This driving force is a motivator towards success, and achievement is measured through the security of family and views of oneself through important relationships in their life. Does not come across as overly confident. 

Should I become an energy healer (2 cards)

Heirophant: need to seek professional advice; alternatively any ritualistic service that is performed should have the appropriate spiritual leader.

Upside down Wheel of Fortune:

Although you may have had a run of bad luck in your past, things are changing and your life will soon take a turn for the better. Everything is on the way up and now it is time to enjoy the positive changes coming your direction. 

Should I consider selling adult toys through intamacy tickles, and will it be profitable? (2 cards)

10 of Wands for selling:

You have a lot of stresses, strains, and responsibilities, but you are quite capable of handling them so don’t worry too much. 

2 of Pentacles for finance:

You need to keep the balancing act up for a bit longer. Don’t make any decisions to drop any one aspect of your life just yet; you will need more information before making that choice. 

*personal reflection on the meaning and value of those answers to come later as I haven’t worked through it all yet, but I get the gist of it.

From there I called it a night and thanked the goddess for our reading and results. 

I had a dream that when I woke up from, I realized I’d ad multiple dreams like this in the past. Although it’s sexual, I’ll post it because there is something deep and profound in repetitious dreams, but I’ve never really bothered to assess one like this, as I did in the dreams where I’m drowning. The dream, though blended in details because of its repetition, follows to the best of my understanding like this:

First I’m in a house. Men keep running in, one at a time, trying to steal an object and leave; as one theif was done and leave, another one would soon enter. I’m trying to stop them in multiple ways – screaming at the top of my lungs so my brother would hear, setting up traps, chasing them, fighting them, but nothing seems to be effective. The more I fight to defend, the bigger and grander the house gets. 

The house is now a mansion, It’s “Christian” mansion from 50 shades of grey, but for some reason Christian is played by Liam Needon, so he’s a lot older than he should be but a great voice! Anyway, one loser busts in the house and I fake being injured and holding a secret blade in case he comes near, and I’m screaming until someone else hears me and arrests the guy. The last theif I fought was one I used seduction to stop him. He had tattered and dirty clothing, teeth were rotting and a few were missing, but he was younger than me by 2 years and I could tell he was looking for money for drugs. I managed to lure him to the couch and grind on top of him. I refused any real sex or oral because he stunk of sweaty balls (vomits). That’s when Liam Neeson comes down the stairs and see’s me! Finally, someone who could help me stop him. I quickly blurt out he was a theif and this was the only way to stop him until someone would help, and Liam glares and the theif. Then, for whatever reason, the words out of his mouth was that famous one liner.. I will find you, and when I do, I will get you.. Or something like that. 

I use to have sex fantasies like that all the time… me seducing men or women. Particularly its a theme of me seducing someone who has power over me to either protect myself or try and get my wants and needs met, and enjoying not only the sexual thrill, but the feeling of control, leaving them weak and helpless. My very fist sexual fantasy was something like that too… I was a government spy trying to get information out of a certain historical figure I was learning about in 4th grade. I dressed in one of those “I dream of geanie” outfits as a disguise and… Well… I got my information to say the least. 

I’m sure the meaning of these dreams is staring me dead in the face but I still need it decoded. It has to be more than just taking power away from someone. 

Blah… Long ass blog. I’m sitting at the coffee shop blogging all this. This morning I don’t know if I should feel proud or ashamed of myself for handling something between me and Kylie the way I did, but she left 2 weeks worth of trash for me to take care of and out agreement was that she’d start helping with dishes. 

“Hey Kylie, what’s the situation with the dishes?”

“Umm, what do you mean? I have dishes and plastic in my room that I wash and take care of?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t our agreement. You were doing that anyway.”

“Okay, well I guess it goes back to how things were.”

“Sounds good.”

The agreement was that rather than buying plastics and stuff she’d go back to doing dishes and helping out since I’m helping her take trash to the curb because “she can’t do it by herself”, but two weeks ago she did exactly that – she took all of it out. As a result, I only took out half the trash instead of all of it since she didn’t help with any of the dishes at all, and was simply using me. 

Of course, the tarot card I pulled falls in line with this as being militant and controlling, but I have to consider my own needs. I refuse to overload myself with work, or allow myself to be taken advantage of. I know this points back to living with mom and feeling like my sense of purpose and value in the household and as a woman was trying to clean and raise her kids, and homeschool them, but healthy boundaries requires balance of what I will allow myself to take on and be responsible for. Where it’s obvious she never had any intention on helping me, and I already clean up after her when she spills something on the stove or uses the restroom, I refuse to be her thankless nanny or mother. Where she’s constantly looking to feel enabled, I won’t be doing it. Do I feel guilty for what happened? Profoundly and immensely on an unhealthy level I do – but I didn’t attack her or anything, I just asked a simple question and she had the same idea I had. Im protecting myself, and even did it in person instead of through text as she requested, despite how obviously uncomfortable it made her. I need to come to terms with my power and find the balance without shame or fear. This sucks, and I really hate it. 

*sigh* why does being me have to be so complicated. I wish someone would just give me the solution to the problem on that one – am I doing the right thing, and how do I know so I don’t have to harbor these feelings of intensity and insecurity for putting my foot down. I could attempt to take pride in myself for doing what I did, but I don’t know if I should or why, allowing Kylies problems to be her own instead of bearing the burden of interaction between us. >.>’ fucking hell. I should not be this tense and panicked before work. I need to find a way to decompress. 

To my fans, followers, and humanitarians

Hello Everyone!

While normally I use this site to record my dreams, as well as talk about the occasional life event every now and then, this post is about living your dreams. Specifically, I was accepted into my Masters degree program for Mental Health Counseling. My dreams is to one day be able to open my own practice, however, I need your help. Please take the time to read carefully, and help however you can.

Much love from the hopeless dreamer herself,
Carol Simpson

Acceptance Letter

Hearts & Wander

Fear not, for I have dreams to share, but I thought I’d also give my readers an update. My laptop is dead which is why I haven’t posted anything in forever. I rely on my phone to let me know whats going on in the interwebz, but thats all I have. Until then I cannot resume my otherwise monthly rambles and fragments of visions in the night until I buy a new one.

There is a new character to my dream, and his name is Travis – my new boyfriend. Val is also new, and she is his net door neighbor. These are the dreams I’ve had I remember well enough to share.

Hearts (October)

I’m lying in my boyfriends bed dozing off for a while. I’m facing the wall and in my minds eye, I am present in the moment. If I were to have opened them, there would be no difference. All of a sudden I get this bright idea to draw him a heart on his wall with a crayon. They’re washable, and I thought it would be sweet if Travis could see something of me, from me, since I can’t be here every night when he goes to bed. I clamor to the foot of the bed and find the broken crayons in my purse I carry for my sons entertainment for when we are out, crawl back into bed, snuggle up, and start drawing a red heart with my initials and his.

At this point in real life, Travis crawls into bed behind me. After a moment I hear him say “what the heck” and realize I’m scratching his wall in the shape of a heart with my pointer finger. It was just enough for me to pull back in real life, and almost wake me up, but instead I dozed back into la la land.

Back in my dream, once I was finished with the heart, I seem to be quite proud of myself for showing even a small but meaningful token of my affections for him. Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, and Travis wakes up and runs on over. Val comes in and starts talking to him when she sees me in his bed. She walks on over and says her usual “sup bitch” in her warm and sarcastic way. Then she sees that I drew on his wall, and she reproaches me for it, saying how proud she is of Travis for keeping his house clean the way he does, and I’m ruining it.
“You can wash it out” I replied, to which she retorted “Oh yeah? With what?”
“A Mr. Clean Magic Eraser.”
“Does he have any? Where is it?”
Travis looks down towards his feet in disapproval because of Val, but says nothing. I assumed he didn’t have any.
“I’ve got some at home. I’ll bring it over next time. Or better yet we can go to Walmart or Hannaford right now and I’ll go get some.”
Travis rather liked my heart, and I didn’t want to erase it, but Val was pissed it was there and she is like a adoptive mother to him. Still, I don’t remember what she said next, but I did point out that it IS Travis’ wall, and if he doesn’t have a problem with it, then its none of her business. The dream fades out at that point.


Yesterday morning I left Travis’ house shortly before 6 after only having 2 hours of sleep. Once I got home I crashed on the couch for an hour before my son woke me up. I was dead tired. Anyway, this is the dream I had during that short hour.

I’m driving back from Travis’ house on Old Dover Road in my mothers car when I see a car behind me some distance away. I wondered if it was an undercover cop car. When I look from the mirror ahead of me, I throw on my brakes because a 4 way intersection appeared out of nowhere with a red light in front of me. The brakes were failing, so even though I slammed them, the car slowly crept forward the entire length of my moms wagon before it stopped. The line where I was supposed to stop was completely behind me. Because I’m in the middle of the road in front of a red light, I say “fuck it, its worse to be stopped in the middle of the road then go through the light.” I looked all three directions, made sure it was safe, and pulled straight on through and saw out the corner of my eye the light had turned green just as I was almost directly underneath it. Still, the car that was some distance away is now closing in with flashing blues… yep, it was an undercover cop car. Even though the light was green once I was directly under it, he was pulling me over for running a red light. I was terrified. Not only was this money I didn’t have, but my mother will bitch at me for making her insurance go up because it was her car, and it reflects on my driving history, screwing up any chances of a job I was hoping for requiring me to transport people. I couldn’t believe it. I pulled off to the side and came to a stop. The cop car parked behind me and stepped out of the vehicle. Once again, my breaks slipped. Even though my foot was against the breaks and I could not push any harder, it slid forward… down hill. I was doing 5 mph at most, so the cop was jogging to catch up. I did the only thing I could do to make it stop, and with my foot against the brake pedal, I threw the car into park and it stopped. Now I’m beyond panic because I’m gonna get a ticket for trying to evade/outrun the cops as well. I throw the car door open and ball my eyes out. The cop points his gun at me and is screaming. I try everything I can to communicate what happened, but I couldn’t speak clearly enough; I’m like a toddler who’s being punished and has a total meltdown and the parents can’t understand a word she’s saying. I wake up in a state of panic and a flood of heat, so tired that I’m unable to reconcile dreams from reality, and wonder if that incident with the cop actually happened in real life. By the afternoon, I realize it wasn’t real, but damn did that scare me.

On a final note: I was pissed at myself. I dreamt about Jason again. I couldn’t fucking believe it. I thought that now that I have a boyfriend I could escape him in my dreams; Nope. He still haunts me. I fucking hate it. I hate him for that matter too.


878176-Steampunk 3

I’m out and about with my dad at nighttime in this highly crowded place – most likely Florida and during Mardi-gras. People have drinks in hand and as they walk down the street, and a few were a little too obnoxious. We make our way to the car whens some heavy African american dude tries to get into a rumble with my dad. My dad tries to get him to back off, but then they exchange words and a gun is produced from the fat guy who picked a fight. Before he can fire in his inebriated state, the gun falls to the pavement and my dad scrambles for the gun. I try to stop them from a fight but getting the gun out of my dad’s hand so no one would get hurt, and I dont know how it happened, but as I was trying to take the gun from my dad the gun fired and it shot and killed him on the spot. I wept bitterly over my father. I really dont know how it happened, but I blamed myself – even though I didn’t pull the trigger. He was pronounced dead on the scene.

I wasn’t arrested right away, but a detective did take me to some school. He was also heavy set, white, dark hair, brown eyes. “Remember this?” he asked. “No” I replied, what is this place – and why are we here? It was a classroom with a single classroom desk in the middle of the room and no chairs. It was in some massive business building on about the 17th-23rd floor. It had the traditional 90’s school floors – white cut out tiles that were made of some kinda linoleum or plastic. No matter how much you mopped it, there was always dirt. Anyway, the detective starts to ask me questions about the room and if I remember it. I said I have no memory of the room itself, but I have a bad feeling about this place that I can’t put my finger on. Then he told me this is where I murdered a little boy when I was a child. I was dumb-struck and couldn’t believe it. Then we went through the details of how it happened. It was also an accident, but they let me off because I was a child, and I genuinely had no clue what I was doing – I was too small. As he tells me the details my mind starts to unfold as I envision what he said and was made to believe it. “Where did he lay?” I asked the detective. He pointed to the floor. I broke down over that spot and wept bitterly. First I killed my dad, and now I’m forced to remember killing this little boy who was no more than 4 or 5 when I was his age. The gun back then belonged to the teacher and he irresponsibly left it out, so he was charged instead.

Never the less, people start going into the room when another gentleman shows up; he was a light-skinned African american, about 35, handsome – dressed in a wal-mart blue button-up shirt and jeans. Both of us were under the impression he needed to speak to the detective, but he was there to speak to me. I step aside for them to talk and he approaches me for a chat. He asked me about the details as to what happened with my dad, and I explain them. I bitterly wept again having to try to relive the trauma. When all was said and done I told him I knew what happened was an accident, but legally I’m held guilty and plan to plead “guilty – no contest.” Someone had to pay for what happened and I felt too grief ridden to try to blame the owner of the gun or seek a lawyer.

I leave outside and am transported back to the scene of my fathers murder; it’s night time again. I look for dads car to take me home. I get inside and find the keys. Out of nowhere, dad shows up in the front passenger seat from beyond the grave. He tells me he forgives me and that Nana and pop are gonna take it really hard, and there’s a will with money I need to look for for Jamie and myself. I drive back to his apartment in Sarasota and walk inside to look for Jamie first and see if he knew what had happened. As I step into his room his head hangs low and he refuses to look at me. The blinds are shut behind him, but the light from the morning sun invades the darkness, creating a blanket of shadow that envelops my brother. I try to tell him it was an accident and that I’m eternally sorry for what has happened, but he looked so lost. I weep as hard as I can on the floor again. Dad steps in and tries to say something, but only I can hear him. I translate what he said back to jamie, but he’s still too angry and upset to listen.

I wake up with tears in my eyes and a runny nose.

Shuttles and Theives

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I was part of a space shuttle program and was asked last second to join. I rode on top of the rocket as it went all the way up, but then I lost my grip and fell back to earth pretty close to when I’d hit space. I guess I was supposed to anyway cause I wasn’t wearing proper space gear, and the point of the study was trajectory – where I would land from falling off the rocket. I ended up landing smack dab in the middle of NY in the exact spot they needed me too. A little shaky, I come on out of this massive concrete tunnel I landed in, head around the corner, and there is Stephen Colbert waiting to do an interview with me. Now, I freaking think this guy is AMAZING, so I was shocked when he leaned in for a kiss before the interview, especially since he’s married. It wasn’t just a quick peck though – it was a two or three long intimate ones. After that the cameras turned on and he started the interview, asking how it felt to be the first woman to try that kinda stunt. The audience was laughing and the sarcasm kept coming as he tried to label what I did as a “republican stunt” for the Newt Gingrich moon colony of “Newtists.” It was awesome.

Afterwards, I walk away and become super poor and with a bad group of friends. I left the city for some small suburban middle class town. I turn into a thief and broke into peoples houses stealing goods to resell at this dollar tree kinda place. I settled on hitting up this one building that had the family still in it. The mother/grandmother busts me and the family tries to chase me down before the police show up, but I got away. I drop the stuff off and head to another place to case. Turned out it was a different house, but the same family! Their son asks why I do it and I got to some genuine answer of “put yourself in my shoes. Its the only thing I know. Its the only way I can live.” I get away again with there stuff, but end up back in NY City.

I know at one point I dreamt of adding Ryan to facebook, probably using one of the computers in the broken-in-to homes, but his brother freaked out and made him delete me, and then he blocked me – so it wasn’t worth it. Blah.

Prayers for the Lost: Connecticut Shooting

I have been closely following the tragedy unfolding in Connecticut. Today. I must have cried at least 3 times putting myself in their shoes – especially as a parent.

Words cannot express the level of grief I feel for these children, and the loved ones who wont see their kids ever again. Gone are the opportunities to watch as their kids learn to drive, fall in love, head on to college, or create a family of their own. Friends of the children who were murdered now face the coldest and harshest wake-up call into the real world, breaking the innocence of their youth.

What I wouldn’t give to be down their with everyone else to help them in their suffering – but there is a way to help.

I know at least 1 SDA church who will be holding a prayer service at 6pm this evening in honor of those who’s lives were cut short. While I may not be able to join them physically – I can at least meet them in spirit as I pray for those who have fallen as well. My hope is that you will do the same.

Support for these families is critical at this time, and many will move on:

For the parents however – if I were in them, I wouldn’t want to smile anymore. Its a brief moment of joy spent without the one I love. I hope they don’t feel the same way.


Teachers of Revenge

I’m going to school, and the school itself has changed. It’s a fusion of my college and my son’s elementary school. Sy has daycare at “our” school now, and its a woman who looks almost the same as his primary teacher, along with a few teachers aids. After I’ve dropped him off in the classroom I turn around after shutting the door and see a loud mouth gossiper who’s my “friend” in this dream. She’s a short older grey haired woman in a darker grey sweater and black jeans. I say hi real quick and walk off to class, but forget where the class is located (I think) and wander back. There’s a door open, and the gossiping woman and my son’s teacher are talking in a closet and the “friend” starts to lie to her, saying how I’ve been telling people that I’ve been working hard in the classroom with my son; So in an effort to “help,” she tells my son’s teacher that I should have a job in the classroom, and possibly take her job. I stop her nonsense talk right then and there in a state of panic and fury, and interrupt them to clarify I never said any of this. All I said was that I volunteered in the classroom once, but wasn’t very helpful at all. As I said this, I looked at the teacher first, and placed my hand on her shoulder to try and validate my point. She was in the classroom, so she would know; then I look at my “friend” and glare at her. She’s embarrassed as fuck, and the teacher is pissed. The teacher stormed out of the closet leaving me upset and worried.

Later I’m in another classroom and I’m forced to stop what I’m doing. I’m bound and gagged by a bunch of women. They held me down, straw in my mouth, and forced me to over dose on cough medicine to try and kill me. It doesn’t work as planed. I pass out, but still breathing, so they send me to a torture room to have me killed in maple syrup  I’m lying on this metal grid with large circles in it, and it starts to raise. Syrup floods the room and starts to boil. I feel uncomfortable and roll over – a little to close to the edge to the point of falling in. Just then I’m rescued by a bunch of other teachers who actually work with the police, figured out “Leanne” – the teacher did it, and am healed back to normal. I give a statement and ask for a follow up report, but it turns out they’re not going to bring her to justice. I was pissed! In the end the police dropped me off outside the school, which is now located somewhere random in the middle of Dover. I realize all that drama made me miss 24 hours of class, but whats worse – where has my son been for the past 24 hours? I freak out and run around looking for him, but to no avail. I walk back to the school to try and find him there but I cant find the school now.  I look for a cop to help me but none of them are out driving.

I’m ready to cry. I miss my son.

I wake up

Banks Suck

Im shopping in Newington having a great time – five below, mall, game stop… doing whatever I want and spending money as I see fit.

At one point in my dream however, I steal something small thinking I wouldn’t get caught, and then get something to eat. I stop at my favorite place in the area, Chipotle, and grab a barbacoa burrito – half mild salsa and half spicy, the normal. I pay the usual $8 and leave.

I arrive at home with my brother Jamie and the kiddo in tow. The police show up in the building and I freak out in front of my brother. I don’t tell him why, but I ask him to tell the guy that if he stops at our place, I’m not home. Sure enough, moments later theres a knock at the door, I hide in my room, and my brother lets him in. Now instead of being accused with theft from one of the stores, I overhear a grim piece of news involving something with chipotle. I barrel out of my bedroom and ask him to clarify the detail’s I’d just heard. Apparently someone in the house (me) ordered a burrito and paid with their debit card. The problem was the billing was screwed up with a banking error and now I owe $80 for the meal instead of $8, plus 1/2 a million dollars for all the services of  correcting the bill and having the police try to criminalize me. I couldn’t believe it! The bank wanted to get money out of me for an error they made and are expecting me to pay the fine with a lifetime in prison for one lousy meal. I panic at the thought of trying to pay the bill and jail time which forces me to wake up.

You know, if these criminal justice courses don’t end soon, I’m gonna go nuts over these dreams.

Crimes of the Heart

I’m working at a museum in the heart of the city of Boston. I run into an older heavyset male in his 40’s who works for the place. He plan’s on stealing an Egyptian gold necklace, and needs my help to carry it out. The value of the necklace is expensive, but undisclosed to me. What I remember is how he said he’ll live comfortably for the rest of his life from it.

On a white pillar in the middle of the room, he lifts a small bottomless glass case that housed the necklace and takes it. Calmly he walks over to the elevator and meets me inside. The doors shut, we go down to the bottom level, and on the way he goes through plan with me. I get the necklace while inside the elevator and head calmly towards the double doors to leave. He takes something fake and gold from inside his pocket and tosses it across the room to fool the security cams and guards who are slowly creeping up on him. I make it outside with him where he stands at a distance to watch what I do. Someone else comes up and joins us, and I give him the jewelry, and move on to the next phase. We take off and he surrenders as a gimmick to the cops. I follow the guy who I passed the jewelry off to because I wanted to ensure my own ass from getting into trouble with the boss.

We end up in either Arizona or Texas after walking for so long. We see a Government fenced off building in the distance and head up the hill towards it. Once we are there though, we see the police barricading the entrance, along with the same heavy set guy who stole the jewelry earlier. He’s now “helping” the police to recover the item, when really, this was all a part of the plan. As we approach I realize they might recognize me from the museum security cameras. The guy gives me back the jewelry, and leaves before he gets caught. I’m standing there like a deer in the headlights when a loud Asian man walking his dog rounds the corner. The fat museum guy leads the charge against the Asian man just as everyone was about to suspect me. In a really stereotypical Asian-American accent, the guy flips out saying “Hey! Why you go attacking me? Why you no look for someone else? I just walkin my dog!” After arguing with the fat guy for some time the Asian guy and I are excused. I walk along side the Asian man and once we’re out of sight, I hand him the necklace; all according to plan. Also, the accent was fake. ~Well played trolling Asian man.

Next, we cut from scene to scene of the necklace being handed off to random people in different states, and I follow along to ensure the safety of the item. At last, I end up in Portsmouth, NH. Suddenly, I watch as the man who has the artifact now, throws the necklace over the fence into the sea. I panic and jump off a building, over a fence, and straight into the water after it. Once I’m fully submerged and mentally check to feel if I got hurt, I open my eyes to see two scuba diver fetch the necklace and swim to the surface.

My dream trips again into me drowning – like I always do in water. Somehow, possibly for the first time ever, I live. I swim up to the top gasping for breath and follow at a distance the one guy who has it. Eventually we meet the museum guy in the downtown area of Portsmouth and hand it off to him. He talks about the fortune he just got away with stealing and how proud he is, and takes off after thanking me for my services.

I go for a stroll in town and find “grandmas house,” though she’s not my grandmother – just some old woman in her 80’s. She’s standing in front of her car with a teenage relative. There, an old man approaches her and asks if her name is (blank). She says yes, and to further clarify this is the woman he’s looking for, he spouts off a bunch of random facts about her life. Taken aback she asks how he knew all this stuff. He boldly clutches his cane and happily states “I love you, I always have,” and spouts off even more facts that reinforce his love for her. She, now in an emotional and breath taking state of shock asks “who are you,” to which he reveals his name.

From there my dream cuts to a scene where picture after picture over a black background is morphing with age and time showing the two of them together in a living room with 3 couches and a fireplace. Somehow, one of those photos from the get go was me as a kid – about 12 years old, but then it’s back to the other two who look like their from the 50’s based on their clothes, the environment, and the fact that the pictures are in black and white. They’re in a living room playing and laughing together as older kids, the, the pictures show them as teens, then morphs into adults in their 20’s, then 30’s, and then he’s no longer in the series of pictures – gone from this living room. The photos now in color to highlight the progression of time. Its just the woman with picture after picture of her raising kids on her own and holidays spent less than at their best. She looks sad. Finally the pictures (and her age) catch up to today, and show the two of them happily lying together on the right couch in the living room for the final picture. The picture is now the same quality of today, but back to black and white.  The visual freezes on the couple smiling, and slow dolly’s into a close-up of their embrace, then momentarily fades to black. This last picture must have been a picture of their future, because it goes back to the two of them talking outside. Apparently they were the best of friends at one point, and he’d kept tons of memorabilia about her. Shes amazed and loves him too as they slowly approach each other – she stained with tears, and he etched with hope. The dream fades to nothing but the overwhelming emotion to two people engulfed in one another with the promise of a happy lifetime. No matter how much time had forced them to age, the one thing time could never touch was love.

I wake up