Vroom Vroom

Date: 9/2/2017

Background: father died in his van. My body rejects large amounts of sugar through fucked dreams and panic attacks. Like any other sugar-induced dream, it started with two guys holding a glock to my head, one dressed in all black in the middle of a field. It was the dead of night, but the moon's glow made it visible enough for me to see their faces. Rather than a normal person's reaction of begging for their life, I stood there casually; almost daring him to do it. Suddenly, bright headlights flash behind him: it was my dad's GMC. I back out of the path, watching the van chase after the guy, essentially crushing him. I could not see who was in the driver's seat as the window was tinted black. Dream transitions to walking around a Dollar Store, and suddenly I'm attempting to buy dildos. By the time I get to the register, the line is too long and I decide to shoplift them instead. Somehow I find my way into a king-sized fancy bed (aka not mine) with the contraband, when suddenly my mother barged in to brag about the new microwave. I teleport to the kitchen, seeing a flat microwave on the kitchen table with my father's voice faintly mumbling in the background. Mom and I go to the garage to clean it out, but several strangers start opening the garage door to enter our house. I'm asked about how my exercise regime is going by one of them. I check my legs to see that my thighs are now covered in stretch marks with a lace-like pattern. The last thing I remember is screaming.