My subconscious’ feature presentation last night was a horrific post-apocalyptic world where all human males had turned into “man-o-pedes” (centipede-type creatures that had mustaches) and all human females turned into keyboards.
That was it, there was no actual action going on or anything, but what the hell.
‘Cause why not, right, brain?
Anyway, in my dream, CNN did this big story about how someone (it was heavily implied that it was Trump) was putting microscopic GPS trackers in Eggo waffles which, once consumed, were used to track where people went for the rest of their lives.
(Why the waffle got digested/pooped out but the GPS trackers did not was never explained.)
The German government got involved (?) because they were pissed at the fact that America was getting all this attention for mini waffle-engulfed GPS trackers but in fact Germany had been doing this for years and could prove this by showing a complex map of all the German citizens that had been tracked by said mini waffle-engulfed GPS trackers.
Then Steven Spielberg comes out of nowhere, saying that the mini waffle-engulfed GPS trackers was his idea: he used it in Jaws to keep track of the shark while they were filming.
(‘Cause the shark in Jaws was totally real, y’all.)
I don’t remember much after that, but seriously, brain?
Warnings: gun violence, I guess?
So I saved Pearl Jam in my dream last night.
Lemme ‘splain. There was a decent amount of stuff leading up to the part of the dream that I can remember, but basically the main thing was that I was living in a dorm-type thing on campus, except it wasn’t really much of a building but rather a set of five or so huge cube rooms. The cubes were lined up in a row and standing on these elevated platforms. They were probably 8’ x 8’ x 8’, I’d say, and the weirdest things about them were a) they were each just one big room with no dividers, bathrooms, or kitchens, b) there was a door connecting each pair of cubes together, and c) they were completely open on the front side of the cube. Like, no door, no windows…just no wall on that front side of the cube.
But I lived in one. Specifically, I lived in the one furthest to the right. I had a bed and a suitcase in it, ‘cause why not.
Anyway, one evening as it is getting dark, the cube next to mine is suddenly hosting a Pearl Jam concert. There are thousands of people standing in front of the elevated set of cubes and Pearl Jam is in the cube next to mine, getting ready to do a performance.
I want to go home for the weekend, so I go to my cube and start packing my suitcase to leave. I feel a little guilty that I’m doing so during the start of the concert, since everything else is dark except for the Pearl Jam cube and my cube as I pack up my stuff. But I can’t seem to pack very quickly, so I’m there quite a while. During my packing, I keep thinking how easy it would be for someone to “break in” to one of the cubes and steal the occupant’s stuff.
Just when I’m about done, I hear a whole bunch of screaming coming from the audience and the cube next to me, and I somehow become aware of the fact that someone has jumped up into the Pearl Jam cube and is brandishing a gun, threatening to shoot everyone in the band.
The gunman hasn’t noticed that I’m in the cube next to them, so I think that maybe I can sneak up on him and ambush him. But as I’m starting to sneak around the front of the cube to get to Pearl Jam’s cube, I hear the gunman open the door between our two cubes and enter my cube.
So now I’m thinking, “now’s my chance. Start walking towards him and if he shoots you, pretend that it doesn’t hurt.” I turn around and walk towards him, and he points the gun at me and shoots me right in the chest.
Pretend it doesn’t hurt. Keep walking towards him.
He shoots again.
Pretend it doesn’t hurt. Keep walking towards him.
He shoots a third time. But my plan is working; he’s obviously freaked out that the bullets are having no effect on me, and he runs back into the Pearl Jam cube, where he is promptly tackled by security and is arrested.
Then the voice actors from The Simpsons show up and thank me for saving Pearl Jam, ‘cause they’re all huge fans of the band.
Also, three close-range gunshot wounds to the chest? No big deal, I’m fine.
So last night I had a dream in which as I was heading to my calc class to teach, I realized that there had been a “substitute” teacher scheduled for today (I guess because the person who was originally supposed to teach the course needed to be gone that day and had booked the sub in advance). I was a little bit nervous about this because I thought my students might like this dude more, so I decided to just go to class and pretend I was a student so that I could see how well he taught.
I go in there and sit in one of the empty seats. For whatever reason, the attendance is really low that day—maybe 30 or so students are there—so it’s pretty easy to just kind of sit in the corner alone.
This dude puts up some PowerPoint slides and starts in on teaching, but is quickly interrupted by students asking him “why do your notes look different than Claudia’s?” or “why don’t you make your notes like Claudia?” or “why can’t you teach it the way Claudia teaches it?”
This devolves into the students asking him where I am, so I decide to blow my cover (I’m wearing a hat—the perfect disguise!) to tell them that I’m here, but I’ll just be observing that day. The students don’t really like that and keep insisting that I should teach instead of this guy.
So the guy kind of just looks at them and says something like, “am I really that bad?” and when the students affirm this, he just breaks down crying and goes to hide behind some of the desks.
I follow him and just try to console him, telling him it’s nothing personal, it’s just that the students have had me teach all semester and were used to that style. He keeps crying, so eventually I just ask him if he wants me to take over for him. He nods, and I go up to the front of the room and start teaching. I actually end up teaching regression, which is not what I should have been teaching them, obviously (the room was clearly my calc room and not my stats room), but then I woke up.
To me, it’s clear that in this dream, the dude represents me and my thoughts/concerns about being a good math instructor, whereas “me” represents how I feel about teaching stats. One feels competent (at least, competent enough), the other feels like a royal failure.
I have absolutely no idea what would cause my brain to insert Adam Sandler into my dream, but here we are
So we’re back to the “WTF” dreams now, brain, is that how it is?
Last night’s dream was…odd. Lemme ‘splain.
In this dream, I’m both watching a movie with Nate and actually in the movie as part of the story (sorta). And this movie, as I keep mentioning to Dream Nate in the dream, is a 90s comedy.
And as everyone knows, a 90s comedy is not complete without Adam Sandler. This dream had Adam Sandler. It also had basically every 90s comedy trope you could think of, starting with the plot.
The plot of this fantastic film was as follows: Adam Sandler (I’m sure he had a character name, but hell if I know what it was) is hired to work in a temporary, week-long job at a goose farm, “Dirty Jobs”-style. He has to do all the dirty work as far as taking care of the geese. Since it was a 90s comedy, you can probably take a guess that things got pretty gross. And pretty screwed up, because Adam Sandler.
Side characters to this hilarious escapade include:
- Tammy and Slammy, two ladies whose entire purposes for existence seem to be to play off of each other in order to make each scene EVEN MORE HILARIOUS. There was one scene where they were looking at a conveyor belt that was used to transport the geese around the farm and Tammy was like, “this looks unstable, maybe the geese might get hurt” and Slammy responded, “no, what’s the worst that could happen?” (this was her response to every concern Tammy brought up during the dream movie) and then immediately dropped a beer into the conveyor belt gears, causing the belt to speed up to like 200 mph and subsequently cause geese to CATAPULT EVERYWHERE.
- The owner of the goose farm, your stereotypical farm hick dude from Al-uh-bama who carried pitchfork everywhere and continually chewed tobacco.
- And myself, who was mostly there to break the fourth wall and comment, “this is such a 90s comedy movie” every five minutes or so.
And if you’re not already feeling the extreme 90s comedy vibes just oozing out of this setup, let me describe to you some of the more minute details.
- The farm owner never really did anything except to comment about how gross the geese were. After each of these comments, he would subsequently do something extremely gross himself, like poop his pants or spit up a wad of chewing tobacco the size of a baseball or start peeing all over someone’s shoes.
- The geese (who were white and were probably actually swans now that I think about it) were “stored” in the river next to a bridge. They were kind of all stacked up as if someone had neatly packed them together. Some of the geese were anchored to the bridge by their butts and had to be rotated by Adam Sandler so they wouldn’t get “too stuck” to get free on their own.
- Adam Sandler was supposed to feed the geese but gave them helium instead (???), resulting in XTREME GOOSE FLATULENCE. Because 90s comedy.
- At one point, the farmer dude asks Adam Sandler to power wash the butt-suctioned geese off the bridge. Sandler accomplishes this by taking the goose that was Most Flatulent of Them All™ and using that goose’s mighty farts to fartwash the bridge free of geese.
Yeah. It was…odd. And detailed, clearly.
Edit: ADAM SANDLER IS 52 YEARS OLD NOW WHAT IN THE HOLY HELL
I drew the pommel horse equipment guy from last night’s dream because I couldn’t get this damn image out of my head.
(Sorry for the crappy quality, I haven’t drawn in approximately 40 years and perspective is hard.)
Last night I dreamt that every time the Olympics were held there was a separate Olympics held for the Olympic equipment. That is, people would dress up like the equipment (e.g., a pommel horse, an archery target, a bicycle) and basically do the Olympic events as the equipment.
And in this dream, people were super into this. This “Equipment Olympics” was actually more popular than the regular Olympics. People would even get tattoos of their favorite equipment.
ARE YOU READY?!?!?!
ARE YOU REALLY READY!?!?!?!
(I’m not, get me out of here.)
So last night I dreamt I was in Moscow in the winter. I wanted to walk on the trail, but everything was covered in snow, so I was super upset because, in the dream, there was literally nowhere else to walk except the trail.
But the next morning (in the dream), the snow on the trail had been packed down by a bunch of people walking on it, so I figured I could go out and walk on it as well. The only problem was that I guess I forgot how Moscow works and couldn’t figure out how to get to the trail from my mom’s house. I told my mom my problem and she’s like, “no worries, the snake will guide you!”
And before I could do anything, the TV turns on and there’s this image of this weird-ass purple-pink snake that looked much more like one of those sand-filled stuffed animals than an actual live snake.
It turns out that the image is actually a live feed of the snake at the head of the trail (heading towards Pullman). My mom goes, “follow the hamburgers!” and I’m like “wtf” and then watch the snake throw up like a dozen hamburgers (like, from McDonald’s, completely whole, with wrappers) and they started buzzing around the head of the trail. I could hear the buzzing from my mom’s house and she just kept screaming “GO GO GO GO!!”
And then I woke up.
What in the living hell.
Last night I dreamt that Dr. Oz (who…was a woman??) and I teamed up and started a folk metal band called The Lumberjanes (instead of lumberjacks…get it?) and we got so ridiculously popular that the US government had to shut down for like half a month because no one knew if our popularity was going to start causing riots in the streets.
We all know about Frisbees, right? Well, I had this dream last night that I invented Friscees, the “next generation X-treme Frisbee.” I’m assuming the name was just my brain using the next logical iteration of Frisbee: Fris-B to Fris-C.
Turns out that all a Friscee was was just a regular Frisbee with a GoPro attached to it. This of course made them like impossible to throw with any degree of distance or accuracy, but everyone loved them because they were so X-treme.
Gotta love dreams, man.
Last night’s feature presentation dream? I was watching a nature documentary on how horses had evolved to have gums like concrete, turned evil, and went around gumming other animals to death in incredibly brutal ways.
Examples: gumming off the legs of goats then stomping on them (the goats, not the amputated legs), sneaking up behind baby animals and grabbing them by the back of the necks and strangling them, using their power gums to break out of their corrals (or pens or whatever the hell horses are kept in) and create havoc.
The visuals were really disturbing. Woke me up.
Gather ‘round, children, and let me tell you of the dream in which I murdered thousands of people by using an app!
In this dream, I still live in Calgary. But rather than the city being situated where it is currently, it sat in this basin surrounded by a bunch of dormant volcanoes.
One of these volcanoes is of particular interest to scientists. Specifically, they want to see if they can make it active again. Because Science™. So to help their cause, they create an app. The app is a giant button that, when pressed, sets off one of many explosive charges that have been placed inside the dormant volcano. The scientists make a special news announcement about this app and encourage people to use it. Because Science™.
And I love this app. Anytime I have a moment, I open it and press the detonation button.
One day, Nate and I have to go shopping, so we head to this big mall that’s outside of the basin, kind of along the rim somewhere. From the parking lot, you can look down into the basin and can see the ring of dormant volcanoes around it.
Standing out in this parking lot, I can’t tell which of the volcanoes is the one we’re trying to make active again, so I pull out my phone and open the app with the intention of seeing if I can tell which volcano it is if I set off one of the charges. I push the button approximately 40 times (thus setting off 40 charges) and look around to see if I can see where the detonations are happening. Then I notice that there’s lava bubbling up in one of the volcanoes that is rapidly spilling out down the sides of the volcano and heading right towards Calgary.
I’m like “OH SHIT”—more due to the fact that Jazzy is down there in the path of the lava rather than the fact that like 1.2 million people are down there as well—and run to tell Nate that we need to get back down there to save our kitty.
But then I woke up, so I don’t know what kind of carnage I caused.
I’ve been having a lot of dreams lately that, when I wake up, I can just barely remember the gist of how they went. Last night’s dream, however, was much more vivid and memorable.
I’m in D.C. my dad and he’s all “let’s go see the White House.” So we walk over to the White House, knock on the front door, and are let inside.
(Y’know, how ordinary people normally get inside the White House.)
The interior looks suspiciously similar to our old house on Grant St. except there’s more furniture and Donald Trump and Michelle Obama (???) are sitting at this large table in the middle of the living room. My dad decides to jet on me, saying he had something he needed to do but would be right back, and I’m tasked with trying to make small talk with Trump Taco and Michelle. So I’m like, “I like your house,” and that’s obviously not a very impressionable thing to say to them because they just keep sitting there, smiling awkwardly at me like “who is this nerd?”
After a few awkward minutes, I notice that there’s a taste of blood in my mouth, and I realize that one of my upper teeth on the left side of my mouth is bleeding a little. So I excuse myself and go to the bathroom.
(Y’know, how ordinary people normally use the president’s bathroom.)
In the bathroom, the bleeding starts to get worse, and no matter how many Kleenex I use, I can’t get it to stop. It only takes about five minutes for there to be tons of bloody Kleenexes in the trash can, the sink, the toilet, and the tub.
But I’m like, “nah, they won’t notice this,” and decide to try to plug up the bleeding just using my tongue, since I suspect my dad is back by now and is angry that I was rude and left The Trumpster Dumpster and Michelle.
I open my mouth one more time to look at it in the mirror, and I can see blood just gushing out between my upper teeth on the left side of my mouth. I also notice that my cheek is starting to swell up quite a bit, as if I had a golf ball tucked in there.
NO BIG DEAL THOUGH, RIGHT, so I leave all the bloody Kleenex everywhere and try to wash the blood off my hands before I go back out there to see everyone. But as I’m doing this, the swelling gets worse and worse and then I start to feel the swelling move into my throat, making it very difficult to breathe.
I’m also shirtless, somehow, by this point, and I’m thinking that I really need some medical attention. Which is super embarrassing, but IT’S MORE EMBARRASSING TO DIE IN THE PRESIDENT’S BATHROOM, so through my rapidly closing airway, I manage to shout, “dad, I need some help!”
And then I woke up.
The scariest thing about this dream though? The fact that Trump was president. Good thing it was just a dream.
This year is apparently all about the weird dreams. I’ve had a lot so far, but I’ve only remembered a few in full.
Last night’s was one of them (and lucky for you, it was fairly short).
In the dream, I’ve somehow convinced Nate to go skydiving with me, and we drive for hours to get to this secluded, exclusive skydiving resort type thing. Everyone there is like some sort of elite skydiver and is super serious about all things skydiving, but I feel confident because I’d been skydiving before and thus knew some of the basics at least.
We stand in this group with a bunch of other dudes who are going to dive and our instructor, who is the most serious of them all, points to this giant carwash thing and tells us all that we need to go through it before we go up in the air.
I’m a little bit confused by this, and as Nate and I are going through the carwash, I mention to the instructor that I’d gone skydiving before and that we didn’t have to go through a carwash to do so.
And the dude gets extremely huffy and says, “well, I guess you contaminated the sky, then!”
And then I woke up.
Pro tip: if you’re ever about to go skydiving, make sure to run yourself through a carwash first so that you don’t contaminate the sky.
This is actually a dream I had two nights ago, but since yesterday was dedicated to my walking stats, I had to wait a day to describe this nonsense to you.
And since I’m all sure you just love reading about others’ dreams, let’s get right to it.
This dream felt super realistic and actually felt like it was quite long, so I probably forgot a good portion of it, but here’s what I recall:
I’m with this young girl (she’s maybe four or five…I’m bad at ages…she’s black and has pigtails) and we’re wandering around what I think is the outskirts of Calgary. It’s not too hot or too cold out, so it’s probably fall or something. We start hearing this metallic “clink! clink!” sound coming from just beyond a grassy hill, so we climb it to see if we can figure out where the noise is coming from.
Once we get to the top of the little hill, we can see that it slopes down on the other side into a wide valley. At the bottom of this valley there’s this strange rectangular fenced-in plot where someone is growing pinecones. The pinecones aren’t growing on trees but rather on vines, and it’s the sound of these pinecones falling off and hitting exposed irrigation pipes that is making the metallic clinking noise we were hearing.
We go down into the valley to investigate this weird plot of vine pinecones (vinecones???). There’s a paved path that runs down the middle of the plot and goes in both directions along the valley floor. The little girl kind of wanders off in one direction on the path; I go in the other direction but have to stop and turn around because the path almost immediately runs into a flooded, swampy area.
I catch up with the little girl and we head across the valley to the other side where the ground starts to slope up again. The girl is saying that she’s pretty sure she knows where we are, especially if there’s a highway nearby. I look towards the top of the sloping hill and notice a concrete noise barrier. I tell the girl that the noise barrier is probably next to a highway and that we should climb up and see to make sure.
So we start climbing the hill, but it quickly gets pretty steep and muddy and I tell the girl that because of my messed up leg, I probably shouldn’t climb any higher and that she should go alone. She seems cool with this, so I just climb to the top of a drainage pipe and hold on to some exposed wires (??) while the girl keeps climbing.
As she gets higher, some dude appears a little bit above her on the hill and tells her that she shouldn’t be climbing it. But before either of us can react, the guy loses his footing and falls into a pool of lava that is sitting at the mouth of the drainage pipe that I’m standing on. He quickly burns up and dissolves in the lava.
This doesn’t deter the little girl’s climbing; she keeps going. Then another little girl appears above her. This girl’s a little older (she actually kind of looks like Eleven from Stranger Things) and she keeps warning us that we shouldn’t climb the hill. My little girl doesn’t listen and keeps climbing. So the Eleven-esque girl finally goes, “I’m sorry I have to do this,” and pushes my little girl off the side of the hill. She also lands in the lava, but it doesn’t instantly kill her like it did with the guy. She’s just on her back in it, yelling “ow!” over and over again.
I get down off the drainage pipe and help her out of the lava. She doesn’t have any burn marks or anything, and after a second of standing up, she says very calmly: “I remember almost everything I used to know.”
Then another guy shows up. He’s in the valley (not on the hill) on the path and he’s walking this tiny little puff ball of a dog. I am, for some reason, absolutely terrified of this dog. I scream, “EVERYBODY RUN, HE’S GOT A DOG!” and just bolt in the other direction down the path. The dog starts chasing me, and the guy starts chasing the dog. He keeps hollering, “just let me get him across the border, and everything will be fine!”
Then I woke up.
It was the most “realistic”-feeling dream I’ve had in a while. It also had its own soundtrack, which was kind of cool. Not sure if it was music I’d heard at some point or stuff my brain was making up, though.
Alright, take a seat for this one, ‘cause it’s gonna be long.
I don’t remember nearly as many dreams as I used to, probably because I get so little sleep that my brain goes right into REM sleep as soon as I close my eyes and it’s like “I don’t have time to remember any of this nonsense” when it comes to the dreams.
But last night’s dream I remember quite vividly.
In this dream, I’m living in this weird hybrid apartment that’s kind of like my place in Vancouver and kind of like our place here. I have no idea where Nate is or where Jazzy is; it seems like I’m living there alone.
But anyway, I come home one afternoon and Mayor Nenshi is just chilling in my living room. Now I’m pretty sure this is an unrealistic scenario—I doubt part of Nenshi’s re-election campaign is breaking and entering—but my reaction in the dream is one that makes the dream feel real. I’m like, “oh my god, how cool, Mayor Nenshi’s in my house, holy crapples, it’s Mayor Nenshi” etc.
He’s pretty cool with this; he lets me give him a hug and he says that he’s heard all about my walking and wanted to talk to me about it.
Then suddenly there are these two other guys in the house, who are apparently working as Nenshi’s publicists/promoters, and they say that they’re planning on using my commercial to help Nenshi’s campaign.
I’m thinking, “what commercial?” But I say sure, yeah, okay, go for it. They show it to me to get my final approval, and they’ve got all these shot of me talking about Nenshi while dancing around and jumping into bushes and things.
Again, this dream feels very realistic, but at this point I’m doubting the realism in the dream itself, because 1) “my” body in the commercial is way prettier than my actual body, and 2) I don’t remember doing or saying anything I’m doing or saying in the commercial.
But I say it’s all good, so they say they’ll use the commercial. Then they say they want to do another (?) interview with me and that they need some time to set up to do so, so they tell me to “go take a short walk” and come back in a little bit.
I leave and realize that I can’t go down to the river path the way I normally go because there’s some sort of huge music festival at the hospital on the hill, so I end up taking a bus out to some middle-of-nowhere forest place and go walking up there.
Well, a “short walk” to me is like 10 hours or something in this dream, ‘cause the bus sent out a search and rescue team for me since I wasn’t back fast enough, and once I got back to the bus (and the very worried driver and passengers), I realized that I’d kept Nenshi and the commercial guys waiting for a loooong time.
I get back to my apartment with every intention of apologizing profusely for my lateness, but—of course—everyone is gone.
I’m like, “OH SHIT I DONE FUCKED UP THIS TIME,” and I go over to where the commercial guys were and there’s this packet of papers with all these X’s on it and the words “do not use; did not show up for interview” on it. They’ve got some other stuff on there like “do not ask for interview again” and “not appropriate conduct for publicity” or something like that.
And I am very sad, ‘cause I don’t like disappointing people or making them mad.
But then I turn around and notice a little origami box on my desk. I seem to know that this box is from Nenshi himself, so I go over and open it.
Inside is a little piece of paper that says, “Keep on walkin’” with a little smiley face.
Which is all I need for the dream to have a happy ending. Nenshi’s not mad at me and he likes my walking. Badass.
Sorry, that’s just the first dream I’ve so vividly remembered in quite some time, so I had to share it.
Last night I had a dream where I meticulously pulled out every individual strand of hair on my head with a pair of tweezers. Then, with a little laser, wrote a different reason why I’m a garbage human being on each strand.
Conscious me ain’t got nothing on subconscious me when it comes to self-hatred.
Okay, awesome dream time:
Nate and I were living in this weird dorm-type house, except it was much bigger than a dorm and had like four bathrooms. Each bathroom’s main feature was a giant walk-in shower that didn’t actually have walls or a curtain (?).
Anyway, Nate had to go off somewhere for like a three-week stretch, so I stayed home alone. After a few days, I started noticing that these small little fuzzy creatures had started to appear in pairs on the shower drains. At first I could just scare them away by turning on the light, but after a little while, they wouldn’t spook at all and would just remain on the drain regardless of what I did.
They slowly started increasing in size and were kind of a little scary, but I eventually got brave enough to tap one of them with my foot. Turns out that they were kitties! So of course I did the only thing I could do—I took the kitties off all the drains and started petting them and loving them. Every time I turned around, there was another pair of cats on a drain or a rapidly growing kitten on a drain.
This continued until I had amassed about 40 cats over the span of a few days. Nate came home and I was super excited to tell him about the magic drain cats. He quickly discovered that they were not magic drain cats but rather were cats who were getting into the house through an open window that I had not seen.
I was worried that he would want the window shut, but he saw how happy I was with all the cats and said that we could leave the cat window open.
Dudes, I actually woke up crying from happiness because I was so excited that we could keep getting free cats in my dream.
Yeah, I’m not a crazy cat lady at all. 0%.
Good lord, I had a bad dream about Annabelle last night. It was horrific. Let me share it with you.
In the dream, I’m in this mostly empty house with my grandma (on my mom’s side) and Annabelle. We are all just standing around when a huge explosion sounds and a giant fireball appears in the distance. We don’t know if this was some sort of nuclear detonation or a volcano erupting, so we (including Annabelle) to go down to the basement just to be safer from whatever was going to start falling from the sky.
So we head down to the basement and I start calling my mom and Nate, trying to get ahold of them to see if they’re safe. No one is answering and I’m getting more and more panicked. Grandma is, of course, making all these snide, sarcastic remarks about my trying to get ahold of people, and I’m yelling at her to shut up because she’s not making things any better (it’s just like in real life!).
Then water starts coming in through the basement’s outside door at quite a rapid rate. All of us try to keep out of the water, climbing halfway up the basement stairs but still not going back upstairs. Then I see that lava is starting to flow in under the door as well. The lava rapidly starts heating up the water to the point that it is too hot to touch. Meanwhile, the water is rising higher and higher, faster and faster. I’m still on the phone, trying to get in touch with my mom and Nate, panicking because I don’t know if they’re safe or if they’re worried about us.
The water keeps rising and is suddenly nearing the very top of the basement. My grandma and I are on the top few stairs and realize we have to get out. I then notice that Annabelle is not with us. She’s on the top of a bookshelf which is rapidly being surrounded by the rising water. She’s not anywhere near the stairs, and there’s no way I can save her.
I start screaming from the top of the stairs, “I’m sorry, Annabelle! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I can’t save you, I love you!” The water keeps rising and rising and I can’t see her anymore, but I know she’s going to drown.
It was the worst dream I’ve had in a while. I hate dreams involving bad things happening to my kitties, and I really hate dreams where I have no control over the bad things that are happening. The only comfort to this dream is knowing that in real life I 100% would have waded through the boiling hot water to try and save Annabelle. No question.