Gods of Dream.

We were driving through the backroads of a southern state. Everything was wet like after weeks of gray and torrential rain. You couldn't tell the difference between the road and the brush unless you consciously paid attention to the way the tires rolled over the surface. We were driving to New York, nothing there but getting away from where we were. There was a sense that we were escaping the people here, their limited understanding of who we could be and what we were capable of. The road that we drove on eventually came to a point where we were seeing houses. On the one side of the road was a dense forest, wet and autumnal, all branched and drowned, and on the other was a bigger cabin-like structure, more a modern home than a rural retreat, but a cabin nonetheless. The front of their house had no sidewalk, but instead a wooden dock or a deck, something that looked like a homemade sidewalk where they could walk through the growing brush. A big puddle was between the deck and the fo

  I worked in the record store near my house, Monster Music. And instead of it being a store in the traditional sense, instead it was a house. It was old, lots of wood paneling and old carpet, conversation pits in two of the rooms. A second floor that had a wooden bannister with floral and fruit wallpaper that led up to a loft area which led outside to something that felt like it was out of neverland. Like a tree house. There were ziplines and massive trees to slide down. Inside the house, there were racks and rows of records to look through, but since I worked there, I paid a lot less attention to the records than I did the consumers and the people I worked with. That aspect of it was the preeminent theme of the dream itself. There was a communal sense of employees and the people who worked in and around the store. People slept on the floors of the building, laid around one another in big nests of embrace and laughter. It felt cultish in a way, the empty minds and ideas of the people

Dreamed about a Mass effect audiobook series where you could hear line by line dialog and actions described. Instead of only Shepard, you can also choose classes that have a wide wide range of styles. Kind of like how GURPS allows multiple character types in from a monk to a priest to a druid to a mechanic. And a new one got added via dlc where you could be a werewolf.

 I was telling a story about my past to a coworker and in the background, we could hear a giggling at the funny parts, like someone sitting at a nearby table. As if in a darkened screen, something close to avant-garde film making, or like horror, we could see the lower half of Erin From the Office's face smiling and covering up her mouth while she laughed. To test if it was her, I made a few of the funnier parts pronounced and we confirmed it was her laughing. She was nowhere near us.  

  I worked in a store, much like I do now, with a distinct back and a distinct front. The front people knew I worked at Gamestop and were trying to make the break room “cool” for me because they thought I liked games but the efforts were done terribly. It was as if they had looked up “Radical Gamer Themes” in the late 80s or Early 90s. Lots of sunglasses. A poor drawing of Sonic the Hedgehog. I took a picture and sent it to Dan Smith who had some replied “At least they’re honest.” I sent a gif response of people in The Office running away from Erin’s desk which exploded.

  I was in a city at night being taken in by a group with others. Everyone spoke spanish. I remember specific phrases but not all of the language we spoke. I was being brought in almost like an orphan and we were being given nicknames. Like “bull” and “bull 2” and “el otro”. A girl, older than me, taller than me, had her arm around my shoulder trying to welcome me into the group. The city was destitute and there was garbage everywhere. A big gas station sign was in front of us, but the building was a blank slate.