I am driving down Airport Way alone in Dana’s old blue car in the right lane. There is quite a bit of traffic and the sun is starting to set. In the left lane is a police car. I do not worry about the police because I am doing the speed limit and wearing my seat belt. I move into the left lane and approach an intersection. I watch the light turn red just before I turn left: I ran the light.

Glancing in the rear view mirror hoping that the cop wouldn’t be there, I see the lights turn on. I pull up to the curb at the grocery store and stop as the cop car pulls up behind me. I worry that we are blocking the entrance but do not want to move in case the cop thinks I am trying to evade.

The male officer gets into my driver’ seat and I slide over into the passenger’s seat. He writes out a ticket while talking to me. He talks a lot, telling me to watch the lights better among other things. He gives a big sigh and says that this will only be a warning. I am relived and think of the other tickets I had gotten this year.

Inside the grocery store, B and I are walking down an aisle. I am carrying a red basket. This is the day after we had a huge fight that ended when I kicked him out of the apartment. He tells me that he is seeing another woman – I am very angry and very sad. We weren’t divorced or even separated yet; it was only a fight.

This other woman is in the store with her little girl at the same time I am. B casually tossed an item into the basked for me to buy. We are walking by the candles and I tell him, “You’re the one that fucked up, not me.” He nodded, and I asked him how he could do this to me.

At the checkout, the bagger (a teen boy) asked me if his item was going home with me or with the other lady. I was furious at the thought of B going home with the other woman.

Out at the car the sky had turned into night. I was looking around and under the steering wheel and front seats trying to find the latch that opened the trunk. I couldn’t find it. The other woman pulls up behind me and I am crushed to think that he would choose her right in front of me. I wanted him to go home with me.

He stood between the cars and I cried.

I am in a large, plush bedroom sleeping. The furniture items are large and very expensive. B comes to the side of the bed and wakes me because he is horny. He crawls under the covers with me and we make out.

I glance up and see that the curtains of the very large windows are open. Just outside the window is standing our landlady pretending to water the flowers and a man standing next to her watching us in bed.

I get up to close the curtain wearing a sarong and white t-shirt but no underwear. I can tell he wants me, but I walk in a way that lets him know I am taken and have zero interest in him.

I pull the heavy curtains all the way closed and make my way back to the bed. B pulls off his boxer shorts and moves on top of me.

B and I walked into a large warehouse packed with hundreds of people. The entire dream was in shades of brown. We had come in the back door and made our way to the front. There we saw John and Heidi waving at us; they had our tickets.

We walk up a few flights of stairs to an equally packed balcony to scope out the place. I head back downstairs to see Damon and Dana coming in the front door. Dana is holding her dog Glory and looking very worried about all the people and not being able to find us. I hand them their tickets.

I was in a small airplane with two women and man all slightly older than myself – we are a military team. One of the women and I flew up 30 feet and turn the plane around to land immediately; the quick landing is part of our training. But we landed wrong and end up crashing. I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt during the crash, but no one was harmed. I get out of the plane and rush towards the large hangar-like building for debriefing.

I was then standing in a bathroom wearing only my underwear and bra brushing my teeth. I am one of the older women in my military team. The other woman comes up behind me with her toothbrush and I realize my bra is pulled up over my breasts.

I stand seductively as she talks and I notice that she cannot keep her eyes off of my breasts’ reflection in the mirror. I pull my lightly colored bra over my darkly colored nipples and cover my breasts.

Then I am the younger of the three and walk into the bathroom to see the older two standing at the mirror brushing their teeth. I laugh and go through a door to the toilets.

There are many stalls in the toilet room. I try the first one on my left, but it has no lock. The next one I try has a broken lock. The lock in the third one is missing. By this time my bladder is extremely full so I hold the door with one hand. As I squat to urinate, my bum touches something cold and wet.

Jumping up I see that the toilet is brimming with water, urine, and poop. Disgusted but really needing to pee, I remain standing and straddle the toilet as best I can so as to not touch the toilet or whatever it holds.

I watch at my urine turns dark – I am starting my period. I grab some toilet paper to wipe, but it won’t stop my excessive bleeding. I don’t have any underwear to wear for the quick trip to my clothes and I am dripping blood. I wad up a ton of toilet paper and hold it between my legs as I flush.

None of the stuff in the toilet bowl will go down. Facing the toilet all of the stalls are gone. Instead, the toilet is in the middle of a large room. There is a girl setting up her cot next to the toilet. She has a lot of black curly hair. She tries to help me flush the toilet but to no avail.

She reaches behind her cot and pulls out an extremely short plunger. As she uses it she gets her hand in the urine and poop water. We see that there are also fingers floating in the bowl. She screams.

I run past the place where the other two women were brushing their teeth – they are gone – and into the other bathroom door. This is a complete bathroom: clean, pretty, and plush. I am able to sit properly and wipe away the blood. The seat is very cushy, but I am worried about getting blood on it.

I am now a skinny twelve-year-old black girl. I need to get some pictures taken of me that show how sexy I am. I am sitting on a quite large black man’s lap wearing a thick polyester swimsuit. My hair is pulled back tight against my head. He is sitting in a metal chair just outside of his open kitchen.

His wife is standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes and laughing at us. He asks me how to get nipples perky, but I wont let him try on me. I keep staring at the opposite wall waiting for the picture to be taken, but there is no cameraman.

I decided to go to the old spot our high school group used to hang out at (but only in the dream). I walked into the coffee shop and see three individuals of our old group sitting in our old corner. I stand in front of them all. I lean down on my right and give Loren a big hug – he is very happy to see me but doesn’t stand up.

Izzy is sitting in the middle of the three and he asks me some questions about work. He asks me where I have worked the longest in the time since we have seen each other. I tell him that I have been at my current job for just over two years. He is impressed.

Pam is sitting on my right, Izzy’s left, and at this she gets up from the group and leaves; she is obviously upset that it has been more than two years since we have spoken and she doesn’t know anything about my life.

She makes her way to a plush chair in another corner. I sit in the chair with her – there is a lot of room. It is as if we are very small children sitting in an adult recliner. I am on her right; our shoulders are touching. She won’t look at me. I tell her I am sorry.

She turns toward me and I proceed to tell her how angry I was at her. I tell her how I feel it is her fault we fell out of communication because she never replied to my emails, never offered me another form of communication, and never made any attempt on her own to contact me. She feels awful.

She then tells me about her college experience. She mentions that if you cannot bring any of your own fabric, there is an area where they stockpile all kinds of fabric. She learned how to make clothing and was able to teach her mom over the phone.

We are sitting at a pick nick table in a park and she wants to show me something she learned while making clothes. She takes two long pieces of thread from her pocket and proceeds to tie tiny knots in them. She then wraps each knot in a small paper cube. The knots are approximately a centimeter apart.

Since I can tell her project will take a while, I wander around the park waiting for her to finish. Periodically I will wander back by the pick nick table to check on her progress; she is always engrossed in her knotted threads.

There was a carnival being put on inside of a building. Through a few hallways, I came upon the venders and food stands lining the left side of a long room. The rest of the space was taken up by round tables, like in a food court. At one of the tables I saw a few of my high school classmates. I made my way towards them and gave them big hugs.

We stood by their table for some time when I noticed a boy of 8 or 9 years sitting at the table coloring with crayons. My friends had to go and asked me if I would watch the boy for a bit. I agreed and sat on his right.

Many members of my family arrived and we all went somewhere together; we took the boy with us. As we were talking, I would periodically notice he was no longer with the group – he had disappeared. I thought little or nothing of it until a large piece of paper would appear in his spot with someone’s name written large in crayon.

After some time I realized that he was possessing people, thus killing them, whenever he disappeared; he was a demon. The name on the large piece of paper was the name of his next victim.

He possessed most of the people in our group until there were only a few left. An unidentified male and I were chasing him around and trying to figure out how to stop him.

I grabbed him once in a crowd and found his face to be covered in a white powdery/webby substance. He wore some wax paper over his head and had his sweatshirt hood pulled over that. I let go of him in disgust.

He and I were sitting at a pick nick table on some grass. When I glanced up he was gone. I freaked out and started yelling to the other members of the group that he was missing again. I looked back at his spot and saw a piece of paper with my dad’s name and the name of his hometown.

We all jumped in the car and raced to Homer. I found Dad and asked him to go for a walk with me – I was trying to get him out of the situation. I was on Dad’s left side supporting his arm. He started staggering about and then his fingers felt like soft rubber. I could no longer hold onto him and he collapsed to the floor. He told me that he needed to poop, and then emptied his bowels there in the hallway.

I called loudly to Mom so that she could come help Dad. I dashed into a door on my left. Mom ran to Dad’s side and a tall, skinny, geeky looking man came running down a set of stairs to tell Mom something. She couldn’t leave Dad, so I followed him back up the stairs.

He told me that he had been doing research on the boy. At the top of the stairs was a brightly lit room with a desk and a few computers. The man told me that he had found pictures online of the boy drawing for the first time with his crayons.

He showed me the picture: the boy had been drawing a small house and its landscape. It didn’t look like any weird drawing to me. The man led me to a bulletin board on one wall of his office where a large poster was stapled. He removed a cream colored brochure that was attached with a pushpin and covered the bottom right corner of the poster.

Under the brochure was the cabin that the boy had been drawing. This was the key piece of the puzzle. I grabbed the poster down, pulling out its staples, and then ran back down the stairs with it and the research man following me.

In the middle of the poster in orange letters was a sentence that I knew was of great importance. I knew that my mother had been possessed. Standing in front of her sitting on the floor, I held the poster so that the bottom right corner—the house that the boy drew—was in front of her eyes.

I was unsure of what to say. I started mumbling something when the research man started saying the orange sentence. I knew what he was doing was right, so I said it with him. After saying the sentence I demanded the demon to leave her. We repeated this three or four times before I woke.

There was a male police officer standing over me as I sat in a chair. I was in trouble, but I didn’t know why. I wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t let me. Then he left but I stayed in my chair because I knew he still wouldn’t let me up.

Melissa was lying fully clothed in my parents’ pink bathtub with her head at the nozzle end while I stood at her feet looking at her face. I could tell she had been dead for some time because her skin was blotchy blues and greens. It was soon going to be time to bury her, but we had to wait for something before we could commence with the burial.

She had my hair on the top of her head instead of her own, and it had caught in the drain causing the water to back up. Her face was just under the water, but no other part of her body was wet. I reached over and pulled her (my) hair away from the drain so that the water could go down.

Worried about how long we would have to keep her in the tub before we could bury her body, I went and got a large saltshaker from the kitchen and sprinkled it all over her skin to keep it from rotting.

I yelled to Mom, who was sitting in the living room, and told her how Melissa’s head was under water. I told her that I had let the water down the drain and then coated her skin in salt. Mom told me to fill the tub back up because it was to help keep the body from rotting. I knew this wasn’t right, but I did it anyway, moving her hair back into the drain to keep the water in the tub.

I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her; I was so worried about the condition of the body. I didn’t know when we could bury her, but I hoped it would be soon—for her sake.

I was lying in one of the few twin beds in our bedroom in the middle of the night; the other beds also had occupants. B came into the room and, standing by my bed, raised his arms above his head in a pose of victory. He excitedly announced to everyone in the room that he had just experienced his first orgasm, and his mom had helped.

Horrified, but not knowing what to say, so I sat up and listened. As he told his story, I sat up in bed and ‘watched’ it happen. He explained that he was having problems sleeping so went out into the living room. There he found a very large stuffed gorilla with an erect penis. He sat down on the gorilla’s lap, wrapped his arms around it, and proceeded to thrust his hips into the soft toy. His excitement escalated, but he was unable to get beyond a certain point: he had plateaued and was unable to hit the peak.

His mom (who in the dream looked nothing like his real-life mom: she was tall, skinnier, and probably in her mid-thirties) came out from her bedroom and found him humping the toy gorilla. She pet the top of his head and told him to lie back: “momma will help.”

At this point I was standing by my bed and asked him if she used her vagina. I asked him if he went inside of her. He wouldn’t answer my questions and wouldn’t look into my eyes. By his lack of answers, I knew that he had intercourse with his mom.

I felt furious, disgusted, offended, and baffled. I asked him why he didn’t come get me when he wanted to orgasm – I would have been more than happy to help. He shrugged and said he didn’t know.

B then said that he had put his penis on top of a black soft leather briefcase and rubbed it against the silver zipper. A little boy appeared with a glass of milk and poured it onto B’s penis. The boy rubbed the milk into B’s penis while B rubbed it against the zipper.

I wandered around in a small circle feeling everything and nothing – I was stunned – and then laid back down in bed.

I was lying in bed facing the closet waiting for B to come to bed. He came into the bedroom, picked up the laundry basket sitting in front of the closet, and turned to leave: he just needed to finish one more load.

As he turned to leave the bedroom, my wedding ring fell from the laundry basket into a pile of pre-sorted whites. I didn’t remember taking my ring off, but I got up to get it.

I was awake enough to sit up in bed and stare at the pile of white in the closet while B (who was also in bed) told me, “It was just a dream. Lie down.” I mumbled something to him about my ring, then got out of bed onto my hands and knees to look for my ring. After two seconds down there, I realized that there was no way I could find it in the dark so I climbed back in bed.

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