Dreams

Dream Journal #15 and #16 — Guns and Musical Numbers

In the first dream, Nathanael and I were sitting in sacrament meeting at church. A little boy walked up to the podium on the stage to sing a musical number, and I was surprised that someone so young was going to sing by himself. He started singing “I Believe in Christ” (definitely in my top five hymns), but pretty soon he grabbed the microphone, walked down onto the floor in front of the pews, and then began doing what I would call “rockstar” dance moves along to the song. We were all a bit surprised.

For the last verse, there was a key change à la MoTab and suddenly, the choir (which I guess had been there the whole time?) joined in with this kid to make that last verse powerful and loud. But the kid himself was taking it a little too far and was more yelling than singing.

I started crying because I was really touched by the song, and I asked Nathanael if it was okay that I was crying even though it was such an irreverent performance. The end.


Next dream. I had applied for a new job, but I lost the information and couldn’t remember who it was for or what I would be doing. But I could remember their address, so Nathanael drove me to the address so we could figure out what this job was all about.

We arrived at a business park with four or five different businesses. Nathanael suggested that we go into each of them and ask who had put up a job listing lately. We started with the first one, which turned out to be a dry cleaning/laundry place. We walked up to the counter and asked the sharply dressed young man if they had a job opening. He said, “Let me get my manager.” While we were waiting for his manager, I looked around the room and thought, “Wow, I think I would really love working as a dry cleaner!”

A young woman came out and somehow we got off the subject of job openings and she started telling us how one of the dryers had burned her finger to the point of deformation. She showed us her pointer finger and I thought it looked pretty normal. At some point, a customer came in (a middle-aged woman who will become crucial to the plot) and joined our conversation.

Another customer came in, but she was a little bit on the creepy side (like, drool coming out of her mouth and inching toward me kind of creepy), so when the middle-aged woman excused herself to leave, I said, “Oh, I have to leave, too! I’ll go with you.” Nathanael said he’d stay there to wait for our laundry to be done (which we must have given to the laundry people at some point).

I walked outside with this lady and made small talk. (Picture the principal from School of Rock. That’s basically what she looked like.) After we reached the point where we needed to go different directions, I said, “Have a nice day!” And then she said, “Wait, follow me over here.”

So I followed her across the street and into an empty field, where we were far away from any onlookers. I got a weird feeling about this whole situation and was trying to figure out how to leave without being rude. I started to turn to walk away.

“Wait, Shelbey, there’s one more thing,” she said. And then she pulled a gun out of her purse and pointed it right at me!

I tried to scream, but my throat muscles were so tense that I couldn’t. So instead I grabbed the barrel of the gun and simply said, “No,” sternly and walked away, hoping she wouldn’t shoot me in the back. She didn’t.

Another part of the dream was me relating this story to Nathanael, one of my old bosses, and various college students in a classroom somewhere. I remember one of the students asking, “Was it a shotgun or a handgun?” Everyone was very impressed by my story except Nathanael, who lost interest in it by the time I got to the best part.

The end.

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