Dream Journal Ultimate
Date: 12/11/2016
By Fitful
I was in a shop, working. I lived in a special building, with other people, and if I didn't have my key card I couldn't get in. The shop I worked in was amazing, full of arts and craft things, I especially wanted these little gothic ornaments which I wanted to make into necklaces but the woman with me, she was like a roommate/mother/guard, wouldn't let me stay long enough. I ended up getting stuck just before our door because I had left my key card in my notebook and forgot. I also didn't mention of I needed to swipe it right there. I ended up taking off all my clothes to look for it. I was living in a special community of very pretty cookie cutters houses. They were given away to people in need, 30,000 a house. The were very nice, even by my standards. A deep mint green and black trim, everything up to date inside, and fixed if broken. The only catch was, if you moved in you could never leave. Most of them argued why would anyone want to? It was a perfect community. It was safe. The outside world was horrible in this dream world. Outside this community people were killed daily for nothing. No one was really safe. The world was wrecked outside. Everyone was suffering except here. I was gone back in time to prevent my younger self from killing yet another younger version of me. It was having a hard time. Each time I succeeded time rewound and I had to do it over again. I was also having trouble with my memory. Each time rewound again I forgot more and more of what would be, and was able to prevent less and less from occurring. Each different living situation I found myself in was real life occurring, besides either was me trying to prevent the current me from being killed. The above situations are examples of this as is the one below. I suddenly found out I had a father, a living father had recently died and left his fortune to me. His people, servants, came to get me to move me onto his estate in Scotland. I know it was Scotland because I was musing over different cultures and their turns of phrase. His staff was almost all from England, so I assumed he was English. I was still trying to prevent my own death by my own hands by the way, but I was caught up in present day concerns and kept forgetting. I was incredibly charmed by the man servant who came to get me. He brought me and my family/friends? We rode in a limo to a house in the middle of 400 acres of owned property. Apparently now owned by me. There was a pretty indigo flower left on a stone rail, I saw it as I got out of the car. It seemed out of sync with the decor so I assumed it was for me and picked it up, and kept it with me. My friends were left to their own devices, in front of the TV last I saw, and I was lead to the basement. That was where it went squirrelly. It turns out this reliable man's servant was either taking advantage of my recently deceased fathers absence, or my father was creepy too. In the basement dozens of girls were being rape and tortured. I was strapped down to be too. I kept lamenting over the flower, that its memory would be tainted.