“He’s dead”

Date: 2/12/2020

I don’t remember how this dream started. At some point I am in a classroom. I don’t know the boy sitting in front of me but I know I hate him. He keeps turning around to look at me and I tell him to stop. He says “I’m not turning around!” And I say, I remember this exactly, “Oh yeah ‘I’m not turning around this is 70 degrees not 180.” I said it in a nasally voice to mock him. A girl in class who I “know” is up to present. She has white hair and blue eyes, I think to myself that I must be dreaming about Danny Phantom. During her presentation a cloud of black smoke swirls around her and when it dissipates her friends are gone. She seems distraught and her eyes turn a golden red as she sits back down in a desk, only now she’s sitting behind me. I think to myself that her eyes are supposed to be green, not red. I don’t remember if anything happens in between or it’s just a transition like this but suddenly I’m on a small road. To my right is a chain link fence and a basketball court behind it, to my left is rocks giving way to ocean. A little boy is skateboarding by and he falls into the water. I think to myself, “Watching people drown always makes me feel bad.” I hop in to save him. Suddenly my dad is there. I ask him what the little boy is wearing, he has like a vest on, and my dad says that it’s a skater thing. I grab onto the boy and start pulling him back to shore. There are hermit crabs of various sizes scuttling all over the brown sand in front of us. I am very worried that I will step on one and be pinched. As we walk back to shore I feel sharp rocks and other things like that digging into my feet, and I wonder what I look like in the real world at that moment. Would I be reacting physically to the dream sensation of sharp rocks on my feet? I quickly forget that thought as the boy is no longer with me. I look around and I’m alone on the beach, but I don’t really care so I go “home.” The house’s architecture and interior design is modern but everything is wood and the furniture is rustic colors. My mom is there, far from the door and behind the couch leaning on it. My dad walks up to her and they talk. Somehow I instantly recognize him as a figment of my moms imagination because he died previously trying to save that little skater boy from drowning. I tell my mom, “That’s not dad. Dad died. You know dad died. Let him go.” This angers and upsets her and she begins to cry. Dad gets this faraway look on his face and he goes over to this toy chest that is suddenly sitting on top of the end table. Still glossy eyed, he folds himself up and squished himself into the small box. Once inside, the lid closes and the box throws itself onto the ground with a thud. I am worried for my mom and believe an intervention is in order. My sister, who is also a little Japanese girl in a kimono for some reason appears. I chase her on foot to the “Tokyo International Airport” and enter. I realize that I am dressed in a sweatshirt and sweatpants when everyone else is wearing traditional Japanese dress. I feel out of place. The airport is styled like my “house,” but much larger and more airporty. I chase her through the crowds and into a similarly crowded bathroom. The stall doors are a saturated dark blue and it looks pretty normal. Someone is grunting in one of the stalls and I think to myself that it’s gross that I would dream about that. I turn the corner and catch up with my sister who is now just my normal sister. She asks what I’m doing in the airport and I tell her that I am looking for my middle school guidance counselor who I think will give therapy to my mom to make her not be so upset about my dad’s death. I show her a brochure for the airport and the person I’m looking for isn’t on it. Nickita Dragun (who I don’t watch and don’t care if I’m spelling her name right) is on the brochure dressed as a sexy flight attendant. The uniform is firetruck red and it matches her makeup. Just as we lower the brochure Nickita walks in, in her work uniform, and looks into the stall where the constipated person just was. She seems furious and yells something like, “Who is responsible for this?!” Then I wake up.