Dream Journal
I was cutting some wild iris with very thick stalks. When I cut the stalks, white powder fell from the cuts. A car raced around a corner and smashed into the flowers, spreading glass everywhere.
Jason, B, another girl, and I were then running from the man who owned the flowers: we weren’t supposed to be picking those flowers and were in trouble. We climbed through a dense forest up a hill. There was a bike path at the top of the hill that had a lot of traffic. We hid from those people, knowing that we were wanted criminals.
Finally the way was clear and we climbed to the top of the hill. There was a door immediately on our left just standing there. We went through it and into an industrial looking back service hallway.
The hall periodically opened up into larger rooms, each with a bunch of well-designed items lined up. They looked like they could have been positioned for show as though in a museum, yet at the same time they were in storage.
We each pretended to be a famous designer for one of the items. I pretended to be the man who designed a bunch of wooden chairs with curved seats and low backs. They stood in neat rows and I told everyone I had designed them. Damon sat in one and complimented me on how comfortable it was.
We went through another door and came out into car derby arena. We sneaked into a large square office in the center of the large room. The man sitting at the announcer’s table with a microphone was the one we had been running from.
We never left his property, but instead went in one big circle.