Numerology tattoos

Date: 10/7/2018

I got drunk at an unfamiliar outdoor bar in England. I fell asleep in the bar. When I awoke I had strange memories. My foggy memories — The waitress had told me that the number nine is very important in my life. So much so, that she convinced me to get the number tattooed on my arm. My fingers too — they were glowing with white ink — random digits on each finger. Also, why am I still here? My friend was near by. I woke her up and asked her what happened. She said we had a happy time and a waitress was telling us a lot of specific and weird things. She asked if I remembered that I got a tramp stamp. 😖 I didn’t, but now that she mentioned it, I could feel some soreness there. “What is it,” I asked. “Remember September X (number I cannot recall now).” I remember thinking, “I’m not sure what that means. Yesterday is not that date.” I could recall the waitress’s face while telling me, but wish I could remember the details. People began to emerge from a blue wall of plasma-like stuff. I freaked out. We started running, but I was filled with a sense of “I need to do something.” I look into the dark sky and (barely) see a watering can floating in the clouds. It floats down and I eventually grab it. I know I must fill it with water, maybe that will somehow do something. I run down old streets until I see a river walk area. I ask aloud, “is this right?” and the container fills with water and quickly empties itself. I assume this is an illusion meant to confirm my instinct. I rush down, jump into the water, and fill the can. Immediately, I think that I need to blow through the spout. When I do this, my view shifts. I’m in a room full of people. I see myself in the river too, but now my head is down a sink. Everyone in the room is watching the body with the head down the sink. There are two men, sticking their arms down there too. While watching, my other self realizes that I’m sitting next to the waitress. She asks if I can remember what happened. She’s very nice. I tell her that I wish I could remember now.