NYC love to hate in various steps

Date: 3/13/2026

I noticed that many things throughout my day make it into my dreams that very same night. In my dream, I remembered a favorite place that didn’t exist in real life. It was a place many people walked through by didn’t quite see or feel the magic that I experienced. I invited two friends to experience it with me. One was Al, who I’m closer with in real life. And the other friend Charlie (near the Morris Park station), who I haven’t seen or spoken to in about a decade. Somehow we separated. The next time I went, the scene was vibrant and became more mainstream. I was sad that the magical aura was faintly just a memory. But who was there? Bridget, John, and their family. It was festive, filled with love and support. I suddenly felt like our shattered friendship was all my fault. But I still felt like I wasn’t totally to blame. John recognized me first, then his dad and then Bridget. They were all kind to me. Said that they remembered most from my life back then. I acknowledged it and said that part got worse. They weren’t mean or judgmental, just accepted. (I’m having many more dreams about my severed friendship and thinking it’s time to bury the hatchet.) Scene changed: I went to an ATM to exchange singles from a $20 bill. Suddenly, the singles turned into hundreds, fifties, twenties, tens, fives and very few singles. The currency came out faster and the people waiting in line were seeing what I would do. Finally someone came out and took me to another area where we can figure out what happened. He led me to what appeared to be some sort of machine that created a whipped texture…as if a person not knowing what an egg cream is, tried to reinvent it, not realizing this beverage doesn’t contain eggs or cream. I waited for a while with the wadded up bills and was losing patience because of how much time passed. Scene changed again. Someone asked if I can please help them. Next thing I know, 8 hours passed. I was tired, felt used and just wanted to get home and sleep. The lady said, “Isn’t this fun?” That made me even more frustrated, as if I was totally being used…and she was getting paid for the work I’ve been doing. The work had something to do with preparing the eggs for this cream drink. Then I got blamed for something. I had to explain how that wasn’t me. She insisted again. So I had to raise my voice to really be heard and understood, which isn’t my personality at all. But I felt I had to do so in order to be heard. (And I was just talking about theses type of real life experiences with my neighbor who I do sunset walks with irl.)