I was driving along what was supposed to be the ring road at an old place of employment. Various vehicles were driving the wrong way and some were parked in choke spots preventing me from getting past.
One male human in a truck blocking me was reversed to a petrol bowser. While he did this, he was talking on a mobile phone. He was then out of the truck next to a bowser talking on the phone.
I recall considering driving half on, half off the road to pass him on my left, however there was quite a drop down a slope which would have had my car tilting at over 45 degrees.
I asked him to get off the phone as it was illegal to use one near petrol pumps. He ignored me. I then poked him. He claimed I was harassing him. I informed him he was in break of EH&S regulations. I wanted to get a photo of him and his vehicle, but only had my phone camera (so could obviously not use it unless I wanted to be a hypocrite). I could not communicate well, muddling my words. This dream dragged along for a while. A motorcyclist was filling up and apparently though I was talking to him. This was despite no phone use. I said something like, “Yes, I know, I’m talking to this guy”.
Frustrating as being ignored, not being able to speak clearly and others not following the clearly established rules.
I appeared to be on Christies Road near Lillico headed north. The road had not much in the way of surrounding features. I was driving my car and behind a bunch of cyclists, waiting for them to crest a hill so I might have a passing opportunity.
As I crested the hill. the double white lines gave way to dashed lines and the road ahead was clear of oncoming traffic so I was free to pass.
My mother seemed to be staying at my place and was using a chest of draws as a bed. She was simultaneously regular size as well as dwarf size. She was coughing and having trouble breathing and after a little bit, ceased to be alive.
I said, “rest now, forever sleep, earned it you have” channelling Yoda.
I then rang up my father and said “I have bad news”. He replied with “she’s dead, isn’t she”. MY voice cracked a little as I began the call.
I was then wondering how I was to ring her remaining siblings and break the news.
After that I was wondering where she’d left her funeral plans as somehow I was now the executor.
Something about something that could have been done to prolong her life discovered at the autopsy and the dream tried to make me feel guilty I could have saved her. I squashed that narrative right away. There is no sense agonising on what or what not may have happened following certain decision points.
Many dreams. The only one I can remember seem to take place at Fisher Street and I was watching movies on a modern system (Plex).
I played in audiocassette and a girls voice said I’d had the opportunity for the last year to hook up with her but had been blinded and was operating under a false sense of security. I window had closed.
I spoke aloud to myself “yes I know. I was an idiot”. I accidentally pressed the on button for a DVD player and it was very noisy.
I just remembered another. I was asked if I was racing this weekend I replied “yes” without thinking.
It was an 80 km handicap. Racing would be a tad tricky as I was overseas at the time.
Something about a MTB race.
Seems a popular dream theme this week.
Something about a short Giger type alien scratching my face.
Something about either MTB bike race or a rally where those in front got a 0:01:50 gap on us and after some hard chasing/climbing the gap was un changed.
My driver also seemed be taking things pretty easy.
I went for a massage while on holidays. The Asian lady who was massaging me wound up getting a happy ending as somehow I ended up massaging her.
She had her smooth medium sized dark purple labia (ref Sandra) and it the clit protruded quite a bit when she got aroused.
We made plans to meet up for dinner or something after she got off work.
I had teed up a Skype interview and when I logged onto it, a whole bunch of other programs were installed, like an office suite. I remember some sort of Excel type program and a photo manipulation program.
The interview required me to create some graphic designs and typography using fonts I did not have. There was no instruction as to if I needed to do this now or later. The requirements seemed do you be out of a quiz book with cheap greyish pages.
Something about me with an undersized orange and blue BMX and not sure if part of the interview dream. First chapter was longer and will detailed in my recollection.
Song on radio with the lyrics “I would walk a mile just to find you in Bloomdales”.
The album was something like Demons and Deviates.
Pretty sure I made up the lyrics Weird Al style and then I heard the song on the radio.
Council of Witches is approving an attack on something I ran.. Discussion on how that have never been allowed. Consent given in the end. 3rd party view.
Necked seen. My Nannas old house (on the outside) they were little different. Modern on the inside. The attackers announce themselves. Someone commented that he must be working alone as the Counsil of Witches would never approve an attack.
Something about living surveillance things leaving red smudges on the walls when we deployed them.
We switch to mics on the fibreglass poles which were flung into the gutter.
Something about deoying someone who would listen in on the attackers and whatever was heard would be sent directly to a screen and converted to text.
Me outside crawling. Throw one of the listening device is around the corner at the back of the house.
I hear “amateurish” and a big burly guy comes around the corner holding the listing device (we called them dogs by the way).
I grabbed him by the neck from the back. He pulled out a box cutter blade and demonstrates how (in various ways) he could cut me. I squeeze harder.
I wind up with his gun in my left hand and holding the blade between my thumb and index finger in my right.
He retreats along with the rest.
I go inside. Modern kitchen. Resembling the inside of an ex girlfriends family friends place in Perth (but not really). Something something. I say “at least we scored another gun”.
Talking to someone about how I never buy anything for price from Kathmandu.
See this jacket? $400 for the plebs. $139 for me as girlfriends friends daughter works there.
Also bought my tent at half price for $400.
Thought about my travel toiletry bag which I think I pay full price for.
In the real world I’ve recently looked at a Kathmandu catalogue.