Dream Journal Ultimate
Date: 6/19/2020
By amandalyle
I had met up with my daughter in town. She was sitting on this picnic bench. I took a pew opposite her. After a moment of silence, I asked her how she was getting on at Zara and Joshes. “I really love living there.” She said, “Zara buys me Mulled Wine.” My eyes widened, “mulled wine?” I repeated, “Hmm, really responsible.” I sarcastically replied. I was so wound up, I got up and left. I met my mum shortly afterwards. I was going to tell her about this whole ‘mulled wine’ fiasco but, before I could, she dragged me off to this huge pier where this brightly lit amusement park was. “Lets go in here!” I said. It was a haunted pitch black play den. “There’s no way in hells chance you’re getting me in there!” She replied. In fact, my mum didn’t want to go on any of the rides. Pointless, really. In fact, I don’t understand why she dragged me there? Next scene; I was in my parents back garden. My dad was alive again (in this dream) This creepy girl, I knew from secondary school, appeared at the bottom of the garden (Hannah Evans) She looked like she hadn’t grown... she was still very small and had hot flushed cheeks. “I’m here to write a report.” She said, standing with her arms folded. “We’re not interested!” My dad called out. “About the people who died here before.” She continued. My dad seemed pretty cagey around this issue. What had happened before we inhabited the house? Then my mum stormed out and started shooing her off the property. “GET OUTTA MY GARDEN!” *She said in a Barbara Windsor tone* ... and off she bloody well fucked. Next scene; I had visited my friend, Laura, who was sitting on the floor, crying, surrounded by a circle of people. “Is everything alright?” I asked. “I’ve called the wedding off!” She sobbed. “I don’t want to be with Karl, anymore.” I was shocked by her sudden change of heart and asked her where he was staying. “He’s living in the outside toilet ...until he can find another place to go!” was her response. I later went to said ‘outdoors’ toilet and found him smoking weed on his thrown. “How’s it going?” I said. “Not too good.” He replied, glumly. “Do you mind?” I asked, indicating to the toilet. “Yeah sure” he said, leaving the shitter.