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Dream Christmas Eve 2019: Background: I plan on buying

Dream Christmas Eve 2019: Background: I plan on buying a particular used model of a BMW next year. I have a friend named Todd who works on the ocean and visits once or twice a year, he is not here at this time. The Dream: I saw the model car that I want to buy, it was white and I do not want a white car but this had everything else I wanted. The owner let me take it for a ride by myself. Prior to giving me the keys he said “The salesman told me, 'Whatever you do, don't push the static electricity button.” I drove off and really enjoyed the ride. Apparently I did push the static electricity button (as I found out later in the dream). The car ran fine for me and I returned it to the owner and also, apparently, we swapped our shoes with each other for awhile. The next scene I was in a place I would describe as an auditorium. The owner of the car came up to me and we started to swap shoes (I remember that I found that disgusting as I would not want to actually wear someone elses shoes). As we were exchanging shoes he said, “Why did you do it?” I said, “Do what.” He replied, “Push the static electricity button.” I had no answer but told him I would pay to fix it. He said that he had already done that and it was still running poorly and that the car was talking to him. In this scene the previously faceless owner was now my friend Todd. I woke up.

My dad is dead in real life.

My dad is dead in real life. I have a reoccurring dream that I'm back at his house and he's alive again. I'm in my old room and I do my normal nightly routine, turn on the heater, pick out clothes for the next morning, and fluff my pillow and climb under the sheets. I wake up to the sound of my dads voice and I thought it was strange because he isn't alive anymore. I get out of bed and go to the living room and he's sitting on the couch talking on the phone like he always did. I run to him and hug him. I shocked because how is he alive again. I feel like he's going to be ripped from my arms again.

Chele was showing me these schools the

Chele was showing me these schools the girls were going to but she had a helicopter and everything was so far. She made me ride on the outside and I was so tired holding on. just kept asking me if I was going to do this or that but never slowed down to let me off. Her friend Molly was going to sell her some van and they were talking about how it was built for sex. Molly was talking about Tony and scooter fukn her at the same time all over town in it. Chele wouldn't listen to me that I couldn't hang on anymore. I let go and fell. I was crying and she never stopped or slowed down and I died.

On the first day, I'm walking along

On the first day, I'm walking along narrow path and I come to pass a Mosque where an Imam startles me. He intercepts me, placing his hand on my left shoulder. He impales my shoulder joint with his Tallon and gestures to the Qur'an he is holding. He asks me with hostility: "would you like to hear it in English or Arabic?" To which I answer: "neither" as I free myself from his grip and continue walking briskly. I sense that my audacity has angered him. I look back to gauge my safety and I see the Imam colluding with another person, talking secretly and pointing me out. This other person seems to take instruction and proceeds to follow me. I periodically look back to stay ahead and the person has morphed into the dress of a Catholic priest while having gained some ground on me. I look again and now he is a Presbyterian minister and stalking me like prey. Next glance he is Rabbi and chasing me. Every time I look back the person adorned a different religious attire, many of which were familiar from various Christian denominations I would ordinarily feel comfortable and friendly towards. I manage to stay ahead of the pursuing adversary. The next day I am walking along the same path and approaching the Mosque. I notice that the Mosque looks more like a cathedral and there are no distinguishable features that tell me it is a mosque, however there is no doubt in my mind that it is a Mosque. I become weary that I am nearly at the spot where the Imam cornered me the day earlier, so I look ahead and walk to the edge of the path in hopes to avoid him. Out of nowhere, he intercepts me and impales between my bones with his claw once again. "English or Arabic?" He hisses, as he begins pulling me towards the mosque. "Neither!" I say, as I painfully rip my flesh to get free. Again I briskly walk and am pursued by a shapeshifter. The third and final day I am walking along the narrow path. I have come to expect confrontation as a permanent obstacle. I consider crossing the road to avoid the ordeal, which would be out of my way and slow me down. Then I think to myself "why should I". Why should I make an alteration to my life and routine for such evil? Instead I march fearlessly towards the usual spot. Sure enough, he jumps out hoping to scare me, but I was expecting him. But before he can insert his claw, like a true martyr I offer my shoulder to him with arrogance and willingness to suffer the pain. This robbes him of much satisfaction as latches on. "Which will it be, English or Arabic?" He asks with malice. I look straight into his black eyes and calmly say "of that book I will hear neither, nor any other tongue".

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