Digging up the Anchor and Dad Stole My Quarters

I'm standing on a white sand beach, just at the water's edge. There is a small current and the slightly cold water laps at my toes. An old man stands just to my left, but in the water just past his ankles. He is looking down and using his foot to brush the water off of a rusty object. He says, "Feel that rust." and I rub my left foot along the edge. "It's an old anchor. I've been wanting to dig it up for years."

Fast Forward

I'm standing in a sand pit about waist level. Joey is in the pit also, a few feet in front of me and we're both digging in the sand with short handled shovels. The kind of shovel with the hand gripper at the end. I'm digging in the wet white sand , deeper and deeper, and I see the rusted metal of the old anchor again. I use my shovel to carve around the edges and I start to see little red candy wrappers, rectangular and shiny with scalloped edges. The more I dig, the more candies start to appear. And quarters. Stacks of quarters toppling over in the sand. My dad is there suddenly and he's helping me gather the candies and quarters and I am thankful for the extra hand. We are working side by side, Joey digging still to my left and now dad gathering what almost looks like Pinata innards. I look at the ground beneath my dad's feet and all I see are empty candy wrappers. No quarters.

I'm furious. I'm so mad at him I'm crying hysterically to anyone that will listen. I'm bawling. It's violent. I'm telling Trevor how my dad stole the quarters from me and I can hardly stand it. I'm fucking furious.

Then I wake up

Kidnapped Little Girl and Remodeling Trevor's House

I'm sitting in a car in a familiar driveway. It reminds me of the driveway of the home next to my best friend's home in elementary school. I see a little girl, brunette, maybe seven years old, to the front right of me in kind of dirty clothing and messy chin-length hair. She looks like she's been playing outside all day. She's holding a jump rope and looking towards the street which is running perpendicular behind me. I watch as she stands frozen with her hands down at her sizes and the rope dangling loosely from her left hand.

I see a man with messy dark hair, a stained white tee shirt and jeans lightly dusted with mud that has dried to a dark sand color. He walks towards the frozen girl at a brisk pace and shares only a few words with her before retrieving something from his right pocket. I'm sure it's a knife, even though I don't see it directly. He brings it to her neck and her face goes blank as he just holds the point under the left side of her chin. Not to kill, but to warn her that if she moves an inch, he will take her life.
I am filled with panic, sitting in my car and watching him guide her to his car. I don't actually see them climb into the silver hatchback with a foot or so navy blue line accenting the bottom panel, but I know they're in. My mind is in a place between rescuing an innocent child--one I don't know personally--and not putting myself in potentially the same situation she is. My hesitation decides my action for me and I sit in the car, looking behind my passenger seat as the man, who was parked facing north, does a u-turn and heads in the opposite direction.

Time Travel

I'm at Trevor's "house" (I say it that way because he lived there only in this dream, and there were certain details that were the same, but it is not his current home). He lives in the house next door to my elementary school best friend and the driveway I've been parked to is adjacent to the sloping, in need of repair, weather tainted light grey deck. I'm inside the house. We're standing in the bathroom (which is the same layout as mine in my current apartment, but in the condition of what a rental house might look--sloppily painted white walls, three section mirror with a wood frame, dated linoleum) with my mom and Trevor and we're watching Trevor, standing in the doorway with a dimly lit room behind him, and he's opening presents. As he's opening them, he gives the contents a puzzled look and furrows his brow. The square, thin  item inside is a floor tile.

Not any floor tile, but a soft, impact absorbing tile, about 12"x12"x1" (The kind that fits together and that people put under heavy items in their homes, or on the floor behind a clerks desk, to give them a more soft platform than the carpet covered concrete.)
My mom and I watch as the look and feeling of disappointment gradually changes Trevor's face and then seem to transfer to me and I start to change myself. Mom is still smiling a soft and hopeful smile as Trevor places the half opened gift in his left hand and she hands him another gift of the same shape. With the foam peeking out from the torn paper of the first gift, he begins to open the second. It's the same exact thing as before. He looks at me almost angrily this time and says, "What is this?"
I stutter as the words try to move past my tongue and say, "The floor needed updating, so I figured I'd let you choose." I have more of the same shaped gifts in smaller thicknesses stacked on the counter behind me. I turn to my left and as a grab a square and start to turn around towards Trevor again while peeling back the paper at the top right corner. It's a dated pattered square of linoleum. I feel regret as I see what poor choices I've made and move my eyes slowly up until they meet his. "Why did you get this for me?" he asks. "The house needed updating so I figured this would be a fun way to motivate us both to start a new project." He just shakes his head.
I have one more gift for him. It's even more flimsy and square. I hand it to him and he opens it fairy quickly this time and reveals a small stack of laminated pictures from the movie The Lion King. "This isn't really my style." Trevor says. I feel instantly depressed that after all of the time we've spent together, I don't seem to get him at all.

Time Travel

We're walking hand-in-hand with Trevor on my left towards the lighting department at the Lowe's store near my house. I note the familiar view with all of the lights seeming to be at different dimness levels.

Then I wake up.

Inspecting Rob & Hillbilly Chokeout

Back story:
I started dating this lovely gentleman named Rob recently, and I talk about him all the time at work...to everyone (blush) and the owner (in his 70's, his brother in his 80's and my
 parts manager 35 year old -Scorpio) all want to what they refer to as "interview" him. They love me like family and they want to see if he's all the things I've been telling them about.
UPDATE: HE WAS GAY. HE WAS A BEAUTIFUL, FUNNY MAN WHO WAS 35 AND OBVIOUSLY STILL IN DENIAL. IF YOU'RE CLOSE TO ME, YOU KNOW WHAT'S UP. HAHA

Ok, here's my dream:

I'm at work. I'm behind the cashier counter, standing in between the two yellowing, early 90s computer monitors. Alyssa is to my left with her back facing the wall and Mike Leibold is leaning against the small glass display case facing me to my right.
I see just glimpses of Rob walking towards us from behind the Fox Eyewear display case. All four sides are transparent in reality, but now the back side (facing me) is a black and textured thin metal door (basically like the storage cabinet that sits just below the case.) The case, which normally has four shelves of sunglasses is empty.
Out of nowhere, my aunts Amber and Vanessa are standing in the t-shirt section. Rob has somehow teleported over to the corner where my hats are displayed neatly.
My aunts are kind of swarming him, my aunt Amber is the pushiest.
Rob is really pushed into the corner and I worry about him getting hurt by my slat wall pegs, but I keep letting them "inspect" him.
My mom is there suddenly and she's pushing between Amber and Vanessa and as she get's closer, I start listing off all of his attractive features. It's almost animalistic, the way they view his symmetry (and I assume for future, attractive, successful generations). I list off: Light eyes, Dark Hair, Good Skin, Good Build, Tall, Muscular and Masculine jawline  and straight teeth  (just to name a few). My mom tells him to show her his teeth just to make sure.

Time Travel

I'm behind the counter again and Mike says to me, "So that's you're new husband, eh?" I smile slightly, a little embarrassed. "We're going to check his credit and do a background check."
I get a panicked feeling in my stomach and (I'm not sure exactly what I said, but it was along the lines of, "No, trust me, he's good."
I still feel uneasy thinking about the possibility of them checking in the future.
Then Rob says, "you can only run a background check if you have the person's Social Security Number."

His standing just out of my view again, shielded by the Fox display case. I can't see his facial expressions but he sounds firm, but not overly aggressive.

Time Travel

I'm leading Rob back through my department and I'm telling him about what I do: buy and sell apparel and accessories.
As we walk, he sees something to his left and breaks away from being beside me and walks behind the luggage display. I watch him briefly, wondering exactly what could have caught a non-bike rider's eye.
I turn and continue walking towards the parts counter and there is a kid (probably 17-22) walking slowly, almost zombie-like. His eyes are intensely fixed on me.
He walks directly  into my path. I casually continue to keep my even pace, moving to my right as to not collide.
I look to my left and I can see Rob by the bike locks. His body coming in and out of view.
The kid is right in front of me  now. His white, stained tee shirt has a yellow stain just above his collarbone to my left (his right) and there are cigarette burns at the bottom right hem line.
He walks right up to me and puffs up his chest so it's touching my chin.
He asks me if I'll go have coffee with him sometime. The way he asks is studdery and the words are hard for me to understand.
I say something mean (not sure what) and he gets pissed.
He moves towards me, aggressively and I push against his chest. I can feel the grit on the surface and the moist heat of his sweat beneath the stained white cotton.
He says something to the effect of, "don't fucking touch me" and I tell him to back off or I'll hit him. He stares me directly in the face and stands his ground, not looking intimidated in the least.
I pull my right hand up and slap his cheek in a kind of half-ass strike. Just enough to make my palm sting a little.
He immediately grabs my throat with his right hand and squeezes so hard I can feel the tendons on the left side of my neck being plucked by his solid grip.
I reach for him, I stretch my right hand as far as I can and I don't even come close to making contact. I am frozen, unable to escape, and all I can do is grasp at the air separating us.

Then I woke up.

Chair 2 at Mt. Baker and Dangerous Hot Springs

I'm riding up the hill on Chair 2. The chairlift is very old and creaks and shakes like it may snap any second. Austin is with me. He's just behind me on the lift. It's only a two-chair so it's super cramped if you try to squeeze so if it's not too busy, it's a lot more comfortable to take separate seats.
I'm looking at him behind me and we're laughing and teasing each other I'm so happy. Just being silly.

Time Travel

I'm in a white truck with a tan vinyl interior. It's a newer model, reminds me of Cam's truck (mentioned in "Cam's Truck, Sue's Parking & Austin's Wet Shirt" dream).

I'm driving. It's dry and dusty and reminds me of Sun Lakes, WA (where we have our family reunions every year). I'm driving on a sand colored road with no shoulder. There is a small fork and I stay to the right. I travel down a slight decline and I look out the passenger window and see hot springs. They are so vibrantly colored; jade blue centers with crusted edges of terra cotta red.

Then I wake up.

On I-5 North with Matt and Joey & Big Dave Teleports into Van

I'm in a van, one of those big "seats up to 13" vans.
Joey is sitting to my right and I'm facing the sliding side door on the passenger side. I am not buckled up.

We're driving (I don't know exactly who is driving, I know it's a man, though. I can't see around the driver's seat to get a good look, but I can see little thin sprouts of blond, scraggly hairs pointing in all directions and being back-lit by the setting sun to the West. His hair is almost strawberry blond, but the sun is making it glow almost a white-yellow peeking just above the headrest.
My boss, Matt Sterrett is sitting in the passenger seat. Not including himself in the conversations happening behind him, just staring blankly ahead.

I hear the loud, distinctive roar of a Harley coming closer. The throaty, low and wet rumble shaking the air against the van.
There are three men beginning to pass us on the lane directly to the right of us. Big Dave is leading the small pack, wearing his deep, almost blood-red cotton t-shirt with black H-D script across the chest (he came to my store a few days ago and was wearing the same shirt). He's riding a full sized Harley (an older model, like early 90's) in a bright, burnt pumpkin orange bagger. The top box is angular as opposed to the more rounded and flowing designs of today.

I look out the side window and point while simultaneously yelling (a little too excited). "It's Big Dave!!"

Time Travel

Big Dave is sitting in the van with us now. It's as if he teleported in. We are still on the highway and the evergreens along the shoulder are a dark, sometimes prickly blur.
He's sitting on the bench seat behind me and I'm turning even further to my right to talk to him directly.
After I scream (while Big D was will on his bike) Matt goes from being absolutely silent to turning sharply towards me and says, "Shut up!!!"
I giggle, like always when we play around at work.

When he turns around, I observe a little spot of light reflecting off his right ear. "You have your ear pierced! Ya, queer:"

Then I wake up.

I Can Carry More Garbage than Everyone!!

I'm at work. I'm sitting on a quad (or something) facing the front door. It's an obviously daytime: there is a grey sky visible through the windows on the east side of the building, but it's dark in the store (like every morning before we turn all the showroom lights on).

Debbie is (maybe sitting on a bike, or something...)  to my right and Matt is to my left, sitting on a cruiser. He's holding a square shaped clipboard (as opposed to the standard 8x11).
He looks a little stressed,  totally unlike his usual easy-going expressions.
He starts talking very quietly, just above a whisper, as if he doesn't want some people to hear what he's saying.
He explains how now that it's slow at the store, we're all being watched very closely to make sure we're being productive and earning our paychecks.

He points out a trash can behind me leaning against the wall. It's overflowing and there is a huge amount of garbage (mostly wadded up sheets of paper, and one banana peel...a yellow one, only slightly browning in small patches) laying around it.It looks kind of like someone deliberately dumped it out halfway.
Matt starts talking again and points out that Debbie repainted all the walls in the showroom.
I look behind me and there is a brand new layer of soft gray paint masking all the nicks and scratches that had been letting the white drywall peek through.
The next thing i know, the entire staff is moving quickly in between all the bikes picking things up frantically.
I look at matt and he's staring at me like, 'what are you waiting for?'
I realize he's expecting me to 'earn my keep' and pick up some garbage (which i notice now is not only behind me falling out of the trashcan, but is also strewn all over the floor and on the bikes.)

I turn quickly and almost fall backwards off the bike trying to get to the garbage bin.
Chase runs towards me from my left and kind of "homerun slides" almost hitting me.

I'm on my knees grabbing and stuffing and I turn around and everyone is carrying large amounts of garbage in their arms. Not putting them in bins or anything.
I have a weird thought that maybe they want to see how much we can carry compared to each other. I see that Trina is carrying a lot compared to her small stature. I think to myself  "I  have to at least carry more than her."
I start taking garbage out of the trashcan and stuffing it under my left arm until my elbow starts straining.

Then I woke up.
.

The Ugly Gold Mirror & Babies Floating in Tropical Water

I'm at my sister's new place in Queen Anne. It's a tiny place, a little over 700 feet, only two rooms separated by an arched doorway. The walls are soft white. The lights are off, but it's day time and the direction her bay windows are facing let a dim, almost dusk-like illumination.
I'm standing in her closet. (Her real closet is long and shallow, but in my dream, it's actually my walk-in closet at my place.
I'm crouched down, almost like I'm "owling" (haha) just to the right of the doorway.
Her gold framed mirror (dimensions 2' x 1' approximately) is leaning, vertically against the wall in front of me.
It's sturdy against the wall and there really is no way for it to tip over, but I've got like a death grip on it (just to make sure).
I think this mirror is hideous and I'm hoping I can stay in here and hide it but I know she'll discover me and her prized mirror, crouched down in her/my closet.

There is someone in the room with us. It is a female, but I don't exactly recognize the voice and I can't see her. They're talking, and even though I'm only few feet away, I can't make out what they are saying. The sound of the other woman's voice makes me visualize her as mid-twenties/early thirties and I picture her with an average frame with long, straw colored hair. She is wearing it in a low pony tail which is carefully threaded through the hole in the back of a light blue (actually, not light, not dark. More of a "corn flower" is my best guess.

Time Travel

Two women are talking behind me. Just above a whisper. I have to keep very still in order to eavesdrop their conversation.They're talking about a big boat, (almost cruise ship big) sinking. Sinking into the crystal blue waters of the Caribbean Ocean.

Time Travel

I'm not in the water, but I can feel the waves rippling beneath me. It's almost like I'm sitting just above the water. I'm bobbing up and down casually although I'm dry. It's as if some force from the ocean is moving my body above the slightly moving liquid. I start to feel the water splash my toes. It's cold at first but as I sink down, my skin begins to adjust to the slightly cooler temperature of the air I've been hovering in.

I see heads bobbing around me. Live heads. Not panicking, just floating with their chins just below the surface. There is about 10 or so, the closest being about four feet from me and the furthest around thirty feet. They are spread about three to four feel apart from each other too and I can see their arms moving slowly under the surface, helping keep them afloat.

Time Travel

I'm bobbing now too. Chin just below the surface, pencil eraser size droplets splashing my cheeks and forehead.
The scenery has changed to more of a jungle, but the water stays the same tropical color. I can see two women standing on the shore which is about fifty or so feet away. They are talking at a normal volume but I can hear their voices as if I'm right beside them.
They are talking about how they recently saw a panther. I picture it , black shiny coat, stalky, muscular shoulders pacing the shore. Green eyes surveying the floating heads with an aggressive hint of curiosity.
One of the women says something about the panther rescuing the bobbing women, she says it so casually  and I'm shocked. I know she's lying and I visualize torn limbs moving in the current below my toes.

Times Travel

There are babies floating now. Struggling to stay on top of the water. The the ones that are close enough to the dead and dying, dismembered women are trying desperately to cling to what is left of their bodies.

Then I wake up.