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I wake up at around 6 or 7 AM to thrashing against the outside of the house. I get and open up the curtains in the living room to see what's going on outside. Just pure, strong winds blowing anything away that's not heavy enough or secured to the ground. It's mostly trash cans that were put out overnight that are now scattered everywhere. It's not raining, but something about the wind is causing a grey haze in the air (kind of like a fog but not really).

As I'm about to step away from the window, I see a car speeding down the road. A police cruiser follows in pursuit. Seconds later and several houses down, the car swerves, spins, and crashes into a tree. The police cruiser barely misses hitting the crashed car. I see a man get out of the crashed car and start running down the street towards my place. He gets here and runs down the driveway. I immediately book it to the back of the house, preparing for him to most likely try to break in. Intense fear and dread fills me.

I'm in a small room that resembles a barbershop but isn't actually one. It's kind of like a parlor, but not a fancy one that's part of a mansion. Grant and Brett are here and we are having some kind of haircut competition. We are the barbers and we are trying to get the best fade on our clients (participants? I dunno what to call them) as fast as possible. I have no idea who they are (in fact I don't think I ever see their faces).

I don't recall anyone ever saying "Go!" but we begin buzzing their hair off (I recall they all had really long bowl cuts to start with). I can see Grant and Brett starting on a good fade from the nape. I work slowly, switching between guards, but I immediately mess up using the #4 guard and go too high. I cannot possibly do a fade now.

After walking and shopping around a mall all day, I end up at a book store that's connected to the mall (there was a larger part of this dream involving the mall, but I've mostly forgotten it all). This bookstore is set up in some kind of octagonal design where the books and merchandise are all on the sides and the checkout is at the very center. I think it very peculiar for a second, but continue on.

I'm crouched at a bookshelf looking through some books on the bottom shelf, where all of these books are on sale for half off. A girl approaches me and, before she says anything, I realise she looks very familiar. I can't quite figure out why, though (she actually looks like someone I know that works at my gym). She asks me if I need any help with anything (ah, employee). I tell her that I'm fine for the moment. She notices I have a copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula in my hand and asks me if I have the other classics. I say "Yeah" even though I don't know what exactly she's talking about. She tells me to meet her over at the counter.

At the counter, I see her nametag that reads "Rebecca" (okay, she's this girl I dated in college who actually looks similar to the previously mentioned person). She checks out the Dracula book I have (guess I'm buying it) and continues on talking about certain classics, which I have no idea what they are as I'm starting to think she's making up nonexistant books. She then holds up a book and tells me if I have this translation. The book (to the best of my recollection) is a combination of Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, Heidegger's Being and Time, and what I think is a history book on the Habsburg empire.

"Yeah, I got that" I say. I look over at the assortment of candy that's also on sale on the desk.

I'm at a McDonald's ordering food (although this restaurant looks like a white castle I used to go to as a kid from the inside). It's not busy at all and I go to look at the seating area while I wait for my food (not sure what I ordered). When my order is ready, I pick it up at the counter and then head past the seating area toward the side exit. For some reason, the tiny space between the actual exit to outside and the restaurant (no clue what this is called actually) has a trash bin with a counter on top with all the necessary condiments and napkins I need.

Once I've gathered everything I need for this fine dining experience, I head back in to look for a table to sit at. However, I notice a commotion happening at the front cash register. A really tall dude—who is the spitting image of Stone Cold Steve Austin except overweight—is arguing with an employee. Someone who I assume to be a manager comes out from behind the back of the restaurant and tries to talk to this guy. He's extremely irate and barely let's the manager get a word in before he storms forward and grabs the guy by his shirt (or collar). He looks like he's about to pick him up and toss him.

I'm a few feet away behind the counter and coldy staring at this pissed-off guy's leg. I'm thinking to myself how sweet it would be to just take a quick swift kick to it.

I'm in a lecture hall, but the seating—long continous benches instead of chairs—is arranged on all four sides with about three rows in each section. The professor is teaching from the middle of the room (okay so it's kind of like a stadium with a court again, but smaller) with no teaching aide whatsoever. It's just him standing there with the whole class facing him.

What's peculiar about this situation is that everyone—including me—is lying on their side instead of sitting upright on the benches. We have our legs crossed with one arm angled upwards and our head resting on our hand. We all have a notebook and a pen to take notes. Making the situation stranger is that we are all wearing tracks suits or yoga pants or some similar combination in a variety of colors.

No one is talking except the professor, which is inaudible and sounds more like a distant droning noise. That class seemingly is about film theory, film critique, or some kind of film studies (even though there's no equipment to watch any videos). Everyone around me seems to be dozing off and jotting down randomy in their notebooks. I am zoning out as well.

My friend Lauren, sitting to the right of me, is wearing red yoga pants and a red athletic jacket. Not paying attention, I fail to realise that the whole class suddenly shifts their positions to an upright sitting position in unison. As a result, Lauren inadvertently sits on my head. She does not move, as if she doesn't realise I'm right there. I have to wedge my way out from under her ass. Once I'm out, the professor is waiting for me to answer a question. Apparently the whole class had failed to answer his question—whatever it was—and asks if I have a better suggestion. He asks again if I know a good example of a film dealing with memory loss or dissociative states.

In what is possibly the near or distant future (you'll see why), I'm in a large, dark stadium with only the basketball ball court illuminated. There is no comfortable seating at all. Instead, there is only long concrete slabs (or blocks?) to sit on. The steps and walls are also just made of concrete. There is no color or creative design at all. It's a very brutalist in nature and everything else reminds me of the underground city Zion in The Matrix (1999).

I happen to be with Alyssa and another guy (can't remember any details about him), but at the moment, I am across the stadium standing on some steps about 150 feet from the court—just enough to make out the faces of people, but still far enough that they're almost like ants. There is another guy next to me who I have just acquired a smartphone from. He's very shady-like, wearing sunglasses and keeping his head down (like a drug dealer).

I'm using this smartphone to record (in landscape mode, please clap) Andrew Payne being celebrated and awarded (?) by the Bulls on the court (ohhh, we're in chicago just like the matrix). The players gather around him and toss and catch him in the air repeatedly. The audience erupts in applause. He gets to his feet, grabs a basketball, runs to the basket and hits a layup. The crowd explodes again.

I run over across the stadium to Alyssa with my phone and she asks me if I just saw that. I say that I did and I got it all on video. However, as it turns out, smartphones are contraband—not just in the stadium, but in this entire society. We head out through a dark exit at the top of the stadium through the last rows of seats.

We're now in a room (or bar? everything is still brutalist/concrete looking) with a few billiard tables. It turns out the chief of police, or secret police, or Gestapo (you get the point) is on the hunt for someone with a smartphone. And they just happen to be searching the very room we're in. AND it turns out it's Isabelle Huppert. She's wearing long black boots, a long leather coat, and has her hair tied back. Everyone keeps quiet and to themselves—including Alyssa and I—while Isabelle Huppert and her cronies walk around slowly, observing, and questioning people quietly.

She eventually questions the shady guy I had gotten my smartphone from earlier. I had not noticed him earlier in the room. From afar, I see him with his head down and then see him tilt his head in my direction. She confronts me and asks me "Where is it?" I say nothing. Her cronies, standing behind her, move closer to her side and toward me. I tell her she can strip me naked and search me for all I care (😏).

They grab me, remove all my clothing (i might actually just be in my boxers), but find nothing. That is until she grabs my jacket and finds an odd lump in the sleeve. She cuts open the inner lining and finds my phone I once owned circa 2007. I smile as they take me away.

I'm down in the basement for some reason when I hear a noise upstairs. It's kind of a creak, but deeper sounding. I come up the stairs and see that someone is at the back door through the door's window (despite it being night). I hear a voice (not in my head) nearby me that tells me to not open the door. I heed this warning and peek out from the window adjacent to the door. Since it's nighttime, I can only make out a figure that I can describe as a really tall man wearing grey pants and a grey button-up short-sleeved shirt (kind of like an Orkin man employee). This man easily clears 6'5" in height. I can see his shape and barely the clothes on him, but his face remains hidden in the dark.

TOPS at Thalia Hall. 14 Oct 2025

I'm in a pub somewhere in England. I can tell I'm in England because of the distinct brick buildings and small streets of cobblestone (at least this is this is what I think england looks like). I'm seated at table next to window with a few people: Alyssa, Chris (a guy with the same name and similar appearance to a friend I had in college. just imagine a leaner brian urlacher with hair), and a girl that looks like FKA twigs (awesome). It must be really late at night since it's awfully quiet, the patrons (who are much older) are dozing off, and the streets outside are empty. At our table, some of us are just slumped over the table, tired after a long night out.

We're planning to head out to another bar, so I get up and head to the bathroom before we leave. The bathroom has to be about the smallest bathroom I've ever been in. I barely just have enough room to spread my arms out. It's dimly lit with walls covered by various stickers and writings done with marker. The mirror is dirty and scuffed (I don't think I saw my reflection and my friend said you can't see your reflection in dreams?).

After I'm done, I head back to our table and everyone is still semi-passed out except Alyssa. Alyssa looks directly at me and I assume she's trying to signal me to get everyone up so we can head out. However, she immediately asks me about "snipadoo" (or something very similar sounding). "Snipadoo?" I ask? "Yeah, snipadoo" she says again. I just keep staring at her confused.

I'm at the gym on the exercise bike after a workout. However, the bike is placed exactly at the front desk of my gym, precisely where people check in. It's all normal to me though—I'm locked in and cycling at a consistent cadence. It's not until that I see one of the employees come out of the locker room that ends up breaking my focus. She's a 5'10" tall, black-haired girl who I've seen on a weekly basis, but not as of late (it's true she's real). She sees me and says "Hey! How are you doing? It's been a while." I say hello back and ask her how she's been as well. She says "By the way, my name is Vanessa" before heading out (her name is not vanessa). I look back at my bike's screen and try to get back into the cadence I was at before.

I'm outside behind a building in what appears to be the desert. There are no roads—just sand—and there appears to be a three-story saloon across from me. The building I'm behind is some kind of factory building in the shape of a U. In the middle of the U is just a large mound of sand that's uneven all across. It's probably about 50 by 50 feet in size.

I'm not the only one here either; there's about ten people here, which I can vaguely identify some as familiar members (although i'm not really sure). One of my cousins, Junior, is chilling having his back against the sand mound. Another is my friend Elisa; she's leaning forward, resting her arms on a partially destroyed brick retaining wall while playing on her Nintendo Switch (at least I think it's a switch). No one is saying anything. Everyone is basically just idling (not sure if it's hot either, but it's very sunny and there's that mexico yellow tint you see in movies).

I've been resting up against the wall of the building for a while, so I get up and head over next to Elisa to see what she's playing (i never find out what game it was). From the corner of my eye, I see my dad across the sand path right by the saloon. He's signaling something at me, but I'm not sure what he's trying to communicate. He eventually gives up and starts heading over to where we are all at.