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Jeff and I were out drinking at a bar. We drank a lot, especially me. For some reason we didn't have to show our IDs until it was time to pay for all the drinks. Jeff pulled out his ID, and it wasn't his, but his friend Justin's. He was trying to pass himself off as this friend and use his ID. Jeff is 28, and doesn't even remotely look like Justin. I thought, what the hell?
The guy behind the counter was almost cartoonishly large, loud and Italian, and started threatening to kick us out because he could tell the ID was fake. I started calling Jeff "Justin" and insisted it was just a bad photo to stick up for him, even though I was still very confused. It didn't work though, so I offered up my own ID and argued with the guy that we were obviously both of age, although we both actually look pretty young.
I don't remember anything about the dream after arguing with the guy for a really long time.
The bartender did remind me a lot of the Italian guy in The Lady and the Tramp, which I did watch recently.
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I was digging through my closet and found a garbage bag full of large sea shells that I had kept in my closet for years (I don't really have any such collection), many of them conch type shells. I picked one up, and a large living crab fell out of it. It ran up and bit and tore at me with its claws. Suddenly more of these crabs were coming out of the shells in the garbage bag, and they were all after me. I couldn't hide from them. It occured to me that they had spent all of their time in there being filled with rage and plotting revenge with one another in case they ever escaped.
I tried to hide in my bed, in different rooms, but nothing worked. They would always find me and tear little niches in my clothes and skin. My jeans were full of little cuts from their claws. I had to start killing them. My weapon was a pencil. It was hard to kill them though, because doing it with a pencil was gruesome, and they were very expressive. Almost sympathy inducing. I looked at one of them closely and its expression of anger was cartoonish, with black eyebrow-like lines forming an angry \ / over its eyeballs. When I killed them, I tried not to look at their expression. It was very gross and difficult to kill them all, and they did a lot of damage to me and two pairs of my pants in the meantime.
I went to school, high school I guess, but in my old elementary school, and showed people the damage to me and my clothes. I ended up having to go to the clinic and stay in there because I was starting to have an allergic reaction to all the crab injuries, and because I was feeling very traumatized by the experience.
I think there should be some sort of inspired-by-real-life scale on here. Because I have had pretty much no reason at all to think about crabs or shells lately that I can remember.
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1: I was hiking with my parents and sister. I was proud of this road I found to walk along, which went along a creek, up a mountain, up to a railroad track where we can take a "Turkish" train ride, sort of like a roller coaster. the guy who let us on spoke French. We rode the train down a long series of exciting hills and back up. On the way up we saw giant blue and pink flowers. I wanted to get a picture laying inside one of these flowers. Jenna started to ask me questions about Jesus. I was weirded out by this. She said that she was thinking of becoming Christian. I expressed the damage that I felt Christianity and other organized religion had done to society, and wondered why and how she would randomly start believing in mystical stuff.
Suddenly I was in this same scene lying on top of a ledge beneath a cliff getting sun when a red car or truck started creeping over the edge of the cliff above me. My sister was down below yelling at me to move, but I didn't think the person would actually drive off the edge of the cliff. They did, and barely missed me on their way down to the ground, hitting my ledge. It was a couple trying to kill themselves, and they hadn't succeeded. I got down from the cliff ledge and chased after them with a part from their broken car and beat them unconscious with it so they couldn't kill themselves. Then I got help from a house that was next to them. While I was explaining to the people in the house what was happening, and that they needed to get help for this suicidal couple, the couple regained consciousness simultaneously and I had to beat them unconscious with the car part again. They stayed passed out this time, and I left them in the front yard for the people who lived there to deal with them. I briefly woke up, drenched in sweat.
2: I was taking a house tour through my dad's (deceased) parents' old house with my boyfriend, a few acquaintances, and the people who were trying to sell it. My boyfriend was very interested in the house, and the acquaintances were somewhat interested. I wasn't interested at all, because I had a lifetime of memories in this house, including the fact that two of my relatives, including my granddad, had died here. We went through a door in a far corner of his bedroom where I didn't normally go throughout my life. It led to a gigantic middle floor that I had never known existed. I was shocked, and telling the people around me that I'd spent my entire life going to this house on a regular basis, and had no idea there was a gigantic middle floor. It had a bar, and a railed landing that wrapped around a 20 ft. high ceiling. The guy giving the tour explained that there would often be a secret floor in houses of my grandfather's generation, where only select adult friends of the couple were allowed to go.
3: I was on a high school trip to large city somewhere, and we were in a theater watching a movie on a huge screen. There were no chairs in the back where I was sitting, and a bunch of us were crowded together on the floor. A girl named Tara that I used to go to school with was sitting to the right of me, and told me that she was so sensitive about movies that she laughed and cried through literally all of them. She kept reacting this way to every scene, and it was getting on my nerves. Then there was a scene where someone got crushed by a boulder, and Tara said it was gonna make her barf. I tried to move away from her, but she still barfed on me a little. I was really upset and got as far away from her as possible. Other people seemed annoyed that I wasn't helping her or helping clean it up. I told them I had a barf phobia and to leave me alone.
Then the group of us were walking along a street on the outskirts of this city, and Tara kept getting really close to me with her barfy clothes still on, and accusing me of being a jerk for not helping her. I tried to be nice, but then my friend told her he hated her and thought she was stupid, and that she should get the crap away from us. Instead of feeling bad, I just wished I had been that mean to begin with.
Some people on the side of the road started shooting the group of us with water guns, just to be mean. The wanna-be tough preppy guys in our group grabbed their water guns away from them and chased them with the water guns. We followed them trying to get them to rejoin the group, and suddenly realized they had led us into a really bad part of town. They accidentally hit some people with their water guns who pulled out real guns and started shooting at us. We all managed to get away.
Then we went into a store of some sort, where a person came in with a gun and made us lay on the ground while he robbed the place. He took one of us hostage and she was so scared. I felt really bad for her. I didn't think he would shoot her, but he did, in the head, and she was still alive, but just barely. I woke up again, even more drenched in sweat this time.
I slipped back into this dream then, and we were all on the bus going home. The principal showed us a giant file where we had all committed a crime of some sort on the field trip. I looked through it and one of mine was not helping the sick girl. I argued about the logistics of this being a crime, and the principal decided to take it out of the "crime files." The last thing I remember is searching through the files to find what other "crimes" I had committed.