The Pillar Dream.

I am looking from a high hill of loose dirt and grass over a large horizon, at another large hill facing mine, far away. There is a smoking water tower or some large structure on this hill. I look down the hill i am on, and it stops about 10 feet down the incline and opens up to an enormous endless pit, with some perfectly straight square prism pillars made of dirt at some areas, most of them closest to the end of the incline on my hill. I notice my dad, wearing his boot he used to wear when he had 9 toes. He is sliding down the incline steadily, also stepping, the loose dirt falling apart under him. I know i need to get him somewhere, i need to. Our lives depend on it. I follow him carefully down, and we make it to the first pillar together. We're steady. He takes a large spontaneous step over a gap onto the next pillar. This causes me to panic and make a jump. When i jump onto his pillar, we both lose our balance and fall off, quickly and deeply.

The Farm Party Dream.

I am parked outside the super-Wawa with dad. I am pointing out to him a group of girls standing under the gas-pump-pavilion. A group of boys comes up to my car, guys i know from school. They are talking about one of them got drunk at another kid's party, and one told me not to be like him. I thought this was stupid, usually older alcoholics tell me this. Then a very funny guy i know from school walks up, as i note to my dad that he is wearing a Spongebob shirt. This isn't exactly what he would wear, but it was funny. I tell my dad how funny this guy is, and the boy seems to start to be funny, doing funny body motions and messing with another kid i know from German class. Then, i seem to invited to a party a small farm house out far in a field, but the entrance is the same as the Wawa, at first. Me and Nick arrive, no one is there. My aunt, who is apparently hosting, tells us the kids will be there, and that the adults have their own party in another room. The room is monotonously gray, small, and dusty, and a door leads to another room just like it, but with kitchen objects and a door outside. I go outside and see that my ex-girlfriend and people i'd be embarrassed in front of are coming across the parking lot, evidently invited. I have a large black winter coat on, one i used to wear at all hours during the Winter. I jump behind an old couch that is covering the door that was on one side of the room. As i lay as flat as possible, they still notice me. I get up, smiling, looking away from them, into the bathroom. I brush my hair, which is longer here, to perfection. Then, as i shyly walk back in, i ignore the guests i was avoiding, and i sit with Nick on a dusty gray couch. As the scenery outside is now nighttime, a wide open sky, the farmhouse attached to a large farm, the farmhouse and farm in the middle of an enormous deserted field, attached to civilization outside only by one long dirt road, a funeral hearse rides down the road towards the house, and evidently crashes. It is turned over, so me, Nick, and a guy and girl from my school go and inspect the wreck. No one's in it, but we find the axle wasn't working or something. We want to blow it up, for whatever reason. We find a fuse, and I light it. I repeatedly tell them it's going and that we should run, and after a while, they hear and we run. The hearse explodes with great gusto. We see the city lights far off down the road, and spot police lights coming this way. We run at extreme speeds back to the farmhouse. We make it in, but Nick is left behind. As he walks up, we realize the cars weren't police cars, they were just white trucks.

The Shaun Dream.

This dream makes me think of an old friend.

I am in an second-story boy's room. It is a small room, the walls angled strangely and uncomfortably. There is one lamp, tall and lighting the whole room dimly. I am on a high, unsheeted but well-cushioned mattress, sitting across from Shaun Fields from This Is England, who alternates into Prince Denson(friend) at one time. His house is obviously unkempt, he is clearly poor. Outside his one window, it is nighttime, cars drive by on the busy road. He has a small black TV on top of a dresser across from the bed. He doesn't have a mom. His dad, apparently, is an alcoholic, and is sitting downstairs, watching TV. He is nice, however. I believe we have a great time, laughing at each other's innocent and silly jokes. I think we ask his dad a question about dinner or something, and he is very generous and willing to get us some, or do whatever thing we requested him to do. We pass through his dark upstairs hallway, the walls of which are dark wood, the doors of which are white and closed. There is a crooked and twisting staircase that we talk to his dad from. I loved this friend.