JUNE-9th-2015: Beach day in a place that looks sort of familiar, like a place in Carbondale, a park that was in the neighborhood. The weather was miserable, like the worst weather for a beach day, but it was the most crowded I’ve ever seen. Jake and I are with two girls that I don’t know really; not sure where they came from; like girls that were just made up for the sake of this dream. Honestly, I didn’t know anyone in this dream except Jake. So we are enjoying this extremely cloudy beach day, Sun nowhere in sight; I seem to keep noticing two other girls, sitting about 20 yards away, that keep making eye contact with me, probably because I have my shirt off and it’s kind of chilly; but regardless, we are enjoying ourselves. We sit very close to the shore, actually too close to the shore; the water comes in hard, all of a sudden, and overcomes all of us. There are moments when I’m completely underwater, but I’m not scared, the complete opposite; the water is refreshing. I get out of the water when I notice that I’m the only one playing around, splashing and such, and everyone on the beach is looking at me. I can’t remember how long we stayed on the beach, not much longer after that scene, and we’re walking to the car; I notice far but close enough out in the ocean is a black tornado and it’s going really fast back and forth.
Some guy, I believe he was friends with one of the girls, gets too close to me in the bathroom; taking the urinal that I’m using, and sees my dick. I move to a different urinal that has some faucet above it that keeps squirting water on my crotch each time I begin to use it; I laugh.
After coming out of the bathroom, one of the girls runs into a friend, a guy that looks like a young Cuba Gooding Jr, and decides that they will get a ride with him because he plans on going to the gym once they’re back in Hollywood. What was weird is that the girls then decided that they didn’t want to go to the gym once they got back to Hollywood and Cuba decides to get a ride from us. It was strange. It was like he weirdly, and out of the blue, became our friend. In my head, it was like I knew him already; like I had memories of doing things with him. We even joked after I told him that I had shotgun. He was about 6’2, and passive aggressively told me that he was too tall to be in the backseat. Then I told him that I can’t sit in the backseat because it gives me panic attacks, which is true, but he knew that already; once again, we weirdly, and out of the blue, knew each other. The girls, the one’s we were with and supposedly Cuba’s friends, were long gone by now. Not sure, but I believe they took Cuba’s car back to Hollywood.
Then on our way to the car, a group of about five or six dirty looking twenty-something year old’s are hanging out in the parking lot. They have a dog, that had one of those dog toys in its mouth; it runs up to Cuba but Cuba doesn’t want anything to do with it. At this point, one of the dirty people comes up to Jake and starts talking. It, I mean she, had dirty red hair and looked like she needed a shower. I’m keeping an eye on her and her friends because I start to get a sketchy vibe from them all. So their dog runs up to me; I don’t want anything to do with the damn thing. Then what goes from trying to get me to play fetch, turns into the dog becoming very angry with me. All of a sudden the toy disappears and my hands are in the dogs mouth, trying to keep it from closing down on them. And he’s growling, I’m almost in tears. I yell to the dirty redhead, who’s still talking Jake’s ear off, “hey! Your dog, please, get your dog. It’s trying to bite me.” It’s becoming harder and harder to keep the dog’s mouth open; he’s becoming more and more aggressive. Once again I plead with the girl, “please, get your dog. It’s about to bite my hands off.” The girl then turns to me and says, “why are you talking to me? That’s not even my dog!” I couldn’t fucking believe it. Regardless of rather or not it was hers, it came from the same dirt group that she came from; if it wasn’t hers, then she at least knew who’s it was and could at least assist in getting the fucker off of me. And the “why are you even talking to me” line was completely rude. I couldn’t believe she was being so unhelpful. In that moment I felt not only extremely scared that this dog was going to bite my fucking hands off, or worst, give me rabies; but I was also extremely sad because I knew no one there was going to save me. As the dog bites down on my hands I wake up in panic. This is probably the fifth day in a row waking up panicked. I have got to stop expecting generosity.
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