I was an adult, which was already strange. I usually take up my literal, corporeal form in dreams, but I've all grown up. I had fully embraced my masculinity, a well-fitted button-up and a tie over my slim body. It was a nice change to see myself that way, which is a good start. I was in an abandoned office, and my task was to explore it. Thankfully, I wasn't on my own this time, and I had a team dispatched with me. One of the members was a short, sweet guy. I didn't get his name unfortunately, but that isn't the point. We paired up and searched the first floor. Vast, sterile-tiled, high ceiling, screen-door area, something we know. Also heeps of busted glass, not good. No lights working, dark inactive boiler rooms. At least there was no one inside. We took the elevator to the second floor. A little more lively, as lively as it could get I guess. There were red booths, like those in malls. I was in a sewing section, I remember looking at sets of buttons glaring from the working fluorescent lights. And that's when a funny thing happened. I remember this place. I remember which floor was next, and what was on it. I know it was a dingy, brown-carpeted, brick computered attic and it was claustrophobic to go alone. I asked the nice guy if he were to follow me, and he agreed.

Once you go in, you never go back. That goes for the maze this place is. It was like the layout changed when you turned around, weeping angel walls. The worse thing is that the walls feel tighter the longer you stay up there. Good luck trying to find the escalator out, you're not going to find it. We walked around together cautiously, ensuring this place was safe. Honestly, I'm unsure what we're looking for. We tried to find all the rooms, take a gander. Just office spaces with old set-ups. Old walls, old smells unpleasant. There was a landmark I recognised, an open brick computer. It sat on the floor. Until now, it's still there, under the ceiling exit. We might as well get out of here with this chance, so I climbed the ladder and knock the hatch open. The guy and I scaled down the building with the locked ladder on the side. The sun was ready to set, and it seems the team had left us on our own. Damn. We had to get back on our own. This abandoned office was far from society and next to a deserted road, so we walked along it. It was something to commit to, but what can you do? We had walked until the sun had almost finished setting, and it was quite dark for us. However, a bus then happened to drive passed us. We can't miss the chance, and jumped onto bus to get inside. Thankfully, the bus drove into the city. We were dropped off at an interchange, and we met Eve! She was part of the team, so she got us to Philadelphia by train. We then got an emergency call out of the station, Eve leading us out. She ran toward these rocks, with suspicious engravings. She admitted she wasn't entirely sure what they meant, neither did I. We didn't solve the case yet, but evetually we will.

I was doing a presentation in school when I met this guy. He was a burn victim, especially on his face. That made him a hard person to talk to, if you were going to make eye contact. The lovely irises in his eyes had lost their colour from whatever fire incident he was involved in anyway. They were almost jade rings in a cloud of fog, surrounding a red core. He had gorgeous eyes, but that was it. The rest of his face was completely raw, bleeding and sizzling like heh had just survived a house fire. The ears were dripping down like heavy drops of water, stretched mercury. His skin was like an itchy sieve, full of craters and irritated. Speaking of craters, he was veritably the moon. He lit the darkness with his light-hearted humour, and was genuinely a sweet man. All I know of him though, is that he really likes hockey, and he wore the same red hoodie everyday. One day, at the hall, he got hold of a pair of scissors. He then oriented the sharp edges of the blades to his face, and pushed them straight into his face. Specifically, the orifices of his nose. Blood dripped out of the gap between the blades, and his friend came and yanked it out of him. But then he did it again, and again. He kept bludgeoning the pair of scissors deep into his face, blood gouging out the stab wounds onto the floor. In fact, he had snipped, forcing the blades together, while the scissors were in his face, cutting the connections and tendons between his face. The skin from his forehead to his nose completely fell off, like a slice of deli meat. His nose was completely gone, cut off. It exposed more raw, beating fleash under the burns, oozing blood. His friend saved him every time, pulling the scissors out his face and away. I wonder why he did that. Maybe he was just in so much pain he would rather disassociate his face from his body. Poor guy. I heard he fell in love with his friend, the one who pulled the scissors away. That's good to hear, I hope he's doing better ~

All I remember of this dream was when the woman holding my hand tried to rush me through a straight, tiled bridge before a massive-ass wave came and separated us. Gee, that thing hurt, it was like an actual wave. I was getting hit against a fence by more large waves, the crashing sound of the water was so loud. I can't tell if this part was real, but I opened my eyes from sleep, looked behind me and in my head I told myself it wasn't real, and the thundering, clashing wave sounds stopped. Crazy dream

The concourse of this concert hall, mall area thing was an outdated muted purple and greens, with a touch of orange. The Nickelodeon retro of the early 2000s. A band was playing! I would've remembered the name if I wasn't so nervous. Our band, The Strange Machine, was next. Realistically, we were playing for nobody. This place was quite dead with only a few patrons here and there. The frredom from expectations sparkled the experience though, as our band went wild. We swung microphones, we twisted and coiled, screamed, it was a whole lot of fun! Sad to see this place go though. You see, this concourse area was in a theme park. It belonged to a property similar to Strawberry Shortcake, largely unknown and incredibly obscure. You could say that's why the finances went under and they couldn't afford to keep it open anymore. I held my partner's hand as we went through the forgotten park in the deep blue dusk, walking through corroded signs and artwork of the character. Saying goodbye is hard.

My partner, Rafiq, and I had bought this buttercream-seeming cake. I don't know where we had gotten it from, probably the dodgiest bakery in the alleyway. Though, the "cream" looked almost jaundiced, with a pale yellow hue than white. Too much egg yolk, I thought. I cautiously held the knife, and sunk it into the suspicious ease of the cake. It transformed, morphed into an entire creature. Becoming flesh, intestines spilt out of the sides, like sewn-on ribbons unravelling themselves, with many, many button blue eyeballs decorating the lovely mess. Hands trying to climb out of its dirorganised body, the spine curled in a twist. The black, straight hair flowing from the supposed head, if it was a head, hid a raging eye, silently screaming for relief. Something else manifests, a Japanese woman. Her kimono coloured in reddish hues, her ghostly face framing 2 angled eyes. I step away from the things, with my trambling hands. She laid some heavy-handed foreign words upon us. An immediate, dangerous universal blurb we call a curse. She proposes an out though, make a deal and be forgiven, or stay cursed. Fuzzy, I shook on it. I rolled over in bed the next day, ready to kiss my beloved Rafiq. But he was gone. His side of the bed seemed untouched, with no trace of him in the house. However, I hear him! We reunite with his voice. He's completely transparent, but still huggable and has speakable capabilities! I am a clingy bunny, and my eyes filled with tears, wanting to see his chubby face and kiss it. I sobbed somatically, and he held me as I shivered. I need to get him back. Suddenly, like a connection, last night, I had a premonition. "what is it like to die?" It means he's dead, my fluffy teddy bear is gone. I cry violently. I snuck to the spirit's ceremony. Cruelly, she shows up theatrically, with all the victims she has claimed, including him, in the flesh, alive, walking like zombies to an incinerator. Bill Nye is there, I guess he experimented with ghosts in his spare time."Is it possible to resurrect someone?", He placed his hand on his chin, maybe. Before being able to go through some plan, the spirit hands each of us a bowl. Eat it. A touch of the substance brings me back to better days. Memories of me in my younger years, back when I was happier. It's nostalgic, almost like drugs. I snapped myself out of it, shaking my head thoroughly of any hallucination. Before Bill Nye gets sucked into the nostalgia, I pull him back as well. The Japanese spirit, or deity, whatever, snaps her fingers. In a blink, her hand is stretched toward me, asking for a deal, in front of a fleshy thingy cake with my partner. I refused her handshake. I jumped onto Rafiq, giving him kisses, as he holds me.

My family had gotten a cat, a grey, long-haired one. I was delighted at the sight of the kitty! I was determined to keep this gal alive, despite my track record of being not-the-best pet owner. It was a late night. I was calling kitty for dinner. She didn't come. I looked for her, and she was near the mattress in the living room. The bad part is, she was in a puddle of her own piss. I ran to the bathroom and snagged a pile of toilet paper. When I came back, she had jumped onto the mattress with her dirty paws and butt. Damn, cats are hard to take care of. I was then transported to a house. I don't recognise it, but apparently it was my aunt's. She welcomes me in, and I cautiously stepped inside. I needed to pee, but honestly I felt bad being in a relative's house unannounced, so I tried to find it myself. I turned the left corner at the top of the stairs, and then another, and then another. This place was a maze of floral patterns and no doors.