Dream Journal 11/5/2016

I’m at a friend’s house. We’re having a long conversation about plans for the future when she suddenly turns on her webcam and makes an announcement to the world: she’s retiring from video game development to pursue a singing career, and to open a Clips 4 Sale studio dedicated to piss fetish videos. I laugh, congratulate her, and head out on my way.

I walk to a corner stand. This stand is run by CM Punk, who has since retired from wrestling, MMA, and comic book writing to sell bottles of soda and bootleg Amiibos. I buy a bottle of orange soda and a knock-off Sonic Amiibo, and continue to an exit gateway. Unfortunately, I need to wait four more hours for the gate to open. It’s midnight, and the way back is blocked by an invisible force. All I can do is wait. An old woman on a bike is staring at me from several yards away.

I’m now in a room full of obsolete computers, being savagely beaten by a group of large, angry men. One of them points a gun in my face, threatening me not to report what they did.

I try my best to hide my feelings; angry, scared, helpless. A girl I like endlessly needles me because she knows something is wrong. I break down and tell her, in excruciating detail, my attack. She holds me as I cry uncontrollably, and places a stone in my hand. I’m never told what purpose this stone has.

The men come back. They somehow figured out that I talked. I hide out in a cupboard, which is also a secret passage to a series of tubes large enough for a human to fit into. I enter the nearest tube and find myself floating in another blinding series of neon colors. I can only assume that I’m safe now.

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