christopher was murdered

Date: 11/26/2016

This is one of those dreams where multiple storylines are combined that wouldn't make sense in reality, but made sense within a dream. Someone, a music performer I believe, tweeted about wanting someone to be with and gave out the code to his room. I rushed there and got inside the room and there were 2 other men there. I told him I thought it was only going to be him, so I felt uncomfortable and left, but then he ran after me into another room, in the dream it was my mother's bedroom, and he laid me down on the bed and started kissing me, saying he didn't want me to go, and for a moment I forgot about everything. (I think the man was my real-life neighbor.) But then I saw the 2 other men start to crawl into the room and I began to scream, except I couldn't really scream, only pitifully yell while my voice cracked and only reached 30% (which is a recurring theme within my dreams.) I was yelling "help" and "mom," I think, saying that they were going to hurt me. I ran downstairs to tell her the entire story, and my dad was there on the couch, he'd just woken up from a nap. And as I told them everything that happened, I realized that I was in danger because a celebrity wouldn't want this kind of information out about him. So I voiced that, and my dad took out his gun, and when they came downstairs, he shot them (rightfully, in self defense.) I felt safe and relieved and thankful he had a gun. I remember feeling conflicted about this, because I hate guns. Then I recall reading a tweet by him that his girlfriend retweeted—something about the second amendment. Later on, I knew I was still unsafe. I was helping Christopher write music, and it sounded really great. Then some people dropped by that he knew from the music world, and something in me knew that we weren't safe. This man asked to speak to Christopher in private, and I was so afraid for him. He shot him. But in the multifaceted reality of dreams, it was also a woman who shot him. And she cried hysterically about avenging death. I ran out of the house as quickly as I could. It was a townhouse in New York City, set in the 1930s. I had grabbed my father's gun for protection, but there were no bullets left in it. I ran as far as I could, because I felt she'd go after me—the woman who murdered Christopher. I ended up running through this strange underground tunnel where there were workers repairing things. They had to run under tarps and try to not get suffocated (in the dream, I recognized I was from a different time period, and remembered reading about this in textbooks.) I came up to a line of workers holding up mattresses that they were trying not to be crushed beneath when I noticed a side lane where I could bypass all of the chaos. I was held up at a woman who needed to verify me, it ended up being an IKEA store and she wanted to see my receipt so she could help me get things sorted out. I remember thinking that I needed to pass for someone who'd shopped there, or she wouldn't let me through. So I made up a story about how I needed something fixed and I gave her a paper of a receipt that I'd found and as I walked passed her and amongst the customer service lines, she said, "let me know if you need anything, Rebecca!" (I think that was the name.) (On the receipt, the woman I was pretending to be.) So I walked straight out of the store and into the parking garage where I saw someone I knew. She was on the phone and told me she'd called a car, and I asked her to please not tell anyone she'd seen me. (At this point, we were out of the 1930s and back into the present.) I realized I had planned for my dad to meet me here to give me more bullets for his gun, but I hadn't called him yet. I panicked slightly. I called him and he made a negative, sassy comment about Christopher and I very dramatically told him he was dead. Then, I posted a rhyming poem about him online (I wish I remembered it) and his killer commented, saying that I didn't understand her. But then in the next few comments, after she'd read more, she said maybe I did. Maybe we felt the same. And she mentioned how fond Christopher was of me. And I was furious that she was a crazy person who killed the love of my life, and thought she and I were anything alike.