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Black Caterpillar, YouTube Friends

I open the cupboard to get a plate, and find a big, prickly, yellow legged, black caterpillar on the inside of the door. I coax the little guy onto my hand and take it outside. It must be the length of a pencil, and scrapes my hand as it crawls over my fingers.
I walk down the path leading through our yard, past the plant-less garden where mom has made a pile of broken furniture that stands over my head. This pile used to be in the kitchen, but she has now moved it outside. I suppose she plans on burning it.
I reach the terracotta pot near the lamppost, which has five or six stemmed yellow flowers growing in it. It’s sparse and looks frail, but it’s the closest option I have. I let the caterpillar crawl off of me, and it wraps itself onto the small yellow plant like a scarf. After seeing the bug’s size compared to the flower, I feel bad I didn’t try to find something larger for him. I try to nudge him back onto my hand to take him somewhere better suited, but he is stuck to the plant harder than Velcro.
I start to worry that the mower will show up and see me in my pajamas, so I head toward the back door to go back inside.
Then I’m in a motor home heading toward the lake with some friends. Most of these friends have YouTube channels, and are going to film a music video while we’re there. They’re pretty YouTube famous, so they feel more like acquaintances than friends really.
I notice a ton of dead cats alongside the road. Not just one or two, and not wildlife, but /dozens/ of /cats/. I park by the shoulder of the road, where the dead cats are thickest. I bark out the window and twelve of the cats jump to attention. Twelve are alive, but at least fifty others are truly dead. My barking also stirred a flock of owls in a nearby dead tree, who take off in flight.
The filming they want to do today involves a lot of wrapping people up in blankets. It’s a lot of fun. Tomorrow we plan on going to a bouncy house that’s deflated by the waters edge, when it is inflated.
Mom goes down to the water, happy that the beach is funneled into a ‘V’ shape: the point being where the water is and the rest beach. I draw a map one a piece of paper with a sharpie, including the rock cliffs that line one side and the packed dirt that lines the other- where we’re currently parked.
We go back home and wait until the next day.
As we’re headed out in the morning, Dad texts me a stupid video titled “who’s foot is this”. It’s basically an optical illusion featuring just feet, tricking you into thinking the foot belongs do a different person than it is. I don’t find it as funny as everyone else does. I walk out the front door as I watch it on my iPod, and when I put my device away without laughing- everything thinks I’m being rude. I tell them that he’s sent me jokes like this many times before. It’s like an old dad joke to me, so I just don’t find it funny. Which is mostly true.
Part of me just feels bitter toward him though. So even if it was funny, I probably wouldn’t have laughed.
My explanation halfway appeases my friend’s minds. My brother and my dad are going with us to the lake this time, without mom. I get in the driver seat and see that the inside of my door has onion ring grease all over it. I look at my brother and see he has intentionally smeared crumbs all over his face. He playfully acts like it’s not him. I chuckle.
I try to drive out of the driveway and toward the lake, but there’s cop cars with their lights on all around. I try to pull over, but a police semi crashes in front of me. I hold my foot on the brakes, but my car still wants to go forward no matter how hard I push on the peddle. I feel like I keep getting in the officer’s way.
I’m the only one in the motor home now. I just want to get home. Eventually I just ditch the dang motor home by the railroad and plan on walking back.
On my way I see a line of men lining up to go inside one of the big, circular, metal buildings. The order of the line goes three masked men with guns, followed by three people with light hair and tan, loose clothing balancing rocks on their heads. This pattern repeats. Every time one of the people go into the metal building, another is added to the end of the line following the pattern.
I don’t go anywhere near that shadiness, wanting to stay out of any conflict that I can avoid.
I see a girl that I work with working on some metal scaffolding. I bribe her into banning my son from dating anyone, because we both work for her and I don’t want my son dating someone- or I don’t want this boy dating my daughter. Something along those lines. I use a drum to intimidate her into agreeing, which she does end up doing. [End]

Relative to Real Life~
Day of July 12th, 2015 (2 of 2)
Real-life characters: Mom, “Mower”, dad, brother.
Dream-created characters: Caterpillar, YouTube friends, people in line, girl I bribe.
Real-life places: Kitchen, cupboard, back yard, garden, lake (nowhere specific), road to lake, dad’s house, dad’s front door, dad’s driveway, near railroad tracks.
Dream-created places: Motor home, specific beach, scaffolding, metal building.
Different than real life: I haven’t held a caterpillar in years, mom hasn’t made a huge pile of broken furniture in the yard nor elsewhere, I don’t have friends or acquaintances that are famous YouTubers, I haven’t talked to my brother in years, I haven’t spoken with my dad in a long while, I’ve never driven a motor home, I’ve never seen a bouncy house at the lake, I don’t work with anyone, I’ve never bribed someone nor intimidated someone with a drum.
Reoccurring: No.
Precognitive: No experiences yet.

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