Wyoming on my way to live in Seattle for what I thought might be 'til the end.

I Dreamed I was with a dance group who dressed up like Santa Claus. I thought this was good because I would fit in because of my obesity anyway. I couldn't keep up.

I dreamed I was given three choices for employment, the closest, least qualified option was to be a Tattoo Artist. I know nothing of the art, yet I found myself standing on a street corner attempting and failing at the task again and again.

I dreamed of being occupied with a distraction at home in my bedroom, yet knowing someone was standing at the door out of the corner of my eye, speechlessly watching me as I carry on with useless things, because all the words that can be said have been said to exhaustion.

I dreamed I heard someone walk toward my room from down the hall, stop short of entering, sigh then turn around and leave. I knew this time it was forever, but it wasn't just one person, it was everyone I ever knew in the form of one lumbering shadow, shrinking away in the distance, down a hallway once darkened in happy memories. Then all that remained was the glaring light through the empty doorway at the end of the hall.

Nightmare on May 31

This morning in a dream before I wake up precisely at 6:40:

I hear someone frantically knocking at the door. It's pitch dark out. But I know who it is. It's someone with whom I'm supposed to interview for a job. I quickly answer the door. No one is on the porch. I close the door.

Then knocking again. (it was really the sound of some guys replacing a roof on a nearby house). I answer the door again, I look across the street way down at the corner. I hear a voice saying "hellooo! Sorry you missed out! Bye!" fading in the distance. (Not in those exact words, but the emotional roller coaster caused by REM sleep brain maintenance triggered a reverse rationalization to create the dream experience.)

I close the door. (I'm still in my dream). My phone rings. It's my Veterans Employment Support Specialist: "Why didn't you answer the door!" "Uh, I, well.. I did answer, twice, and nobody was there!" "Oh well, I guess that's it then." My heart sunk. I thought he didn't believe me.

Fade to a new dream. (In dreams, context is interpreted as time. Since dreams can occur within just a few seconds, but feel like hours, we only perceive that long periods have passed because our rational minds are constrained to the physical laws of reality. Dreams can mishmash fragments of our memories together to create wholly unique experiences.)

I was carrying an M-60 machine gun, or some weapon larger than an M-16. I was part of a team of six people. We were in a large burned out warehouse on a military base, sifting through piles of ashes and rubble for supplies. I managed to find one round of ammo in a box. Everything else was long-ago cooked off.

I jumped onto an armored personnel carrier and the noise triggered a zombie to pop the top. I got him just like Whac-a-Mole. I remember jumping down and seeing a big pile of empty, warped, charred ammo boxes. Everyone was frustrated and leaving.

And I woke up.

The Poisonous Joke

Spoiler: There is only the mention of a joke here, not an actual joke.

I didn't have many friends in school, but I remember one friend who, after all these years, is still tortured in his mind by what happened one day by the hall lockers.

He was a nice person at heart, I know this because he hung out with me at lunchtime. It was late fall when he found himself also hanging out with the popular kids.

One day I was walking through the hall and he had his back to me. One of the popular kids saw me coming and made a joke about me. My friend, because he was so nice, under peer pressure, laughed at the joke.

The popular joker kid looked at me and said hi to me. My friend turned around in horror and saw me walking by. I didn't look at him. I just kept walking. We never spoke again.

Gradually over time he forgot the incident, but every time he saw me, he would have negative feelings, which by now he forgot was his guilt.

He eventually came to despise me because I triggered negative feelings in him, which were actually his own fault.

Hanging out with the popular crowd, he began to mock me and continue to become ever more popular.

From time-to-time he remembers me, and takes another drink of Whiskey. He died. The end.