I am in a loosely boarded house with a back room and one front door, among a group of confused people. Many seem terrified or confused - no one knows how they arrived here. There are no windows, but someone opens the door to look outside. A soft night breeze blows through an unseen jungle. There's a group of three thin, manic looking people outside, down a gravel path near a crumbled pavement road. Illuminated by moonlight, they hurry excitedly toward the door and greet the man looking outside. The strangers are let inside, and they carry a brown paper bag that smells like chicken nuggets. They present this as a gift to the large group of people inside. Some ask the newcomers questions, others wander around nervously, eying the bag of food. The three bring it to the back room and set it on the table. They present it as a welcoming gift for "new friends" to this place. I don't trust them, and politely declined their food. The three slip out the front door and stand on the road, watching the house. Many people eat the food hungrily, but others like me just watch. A scream from the back room and commotion - I get to the back to see people wreching and see why: the nuggets were battered human toes with the bones still inside. It's chaos in the small building. Some shouting, accusing, others flee the building in terror into the night. I understand now what the strangers did - divide and conquer. They gave the 'food' to break a large group of new people into smaller packs. Already, the three are attacking a man outside and stealing his shoes. I make eye contact with a girl and a man - we are staying inside the building, as others run past - some to attack the manic bunch. Others simply flee into the night. Wake to an early alarm, and fall back asleep immediately. I am back in this dead world. It is a grey-blue twilight outside, and I am in the backseat of a pickup truck's cab. The girl and one of the men from before are in the truck with me. Someone I don't recognize is driving it. .my sudden reappearance gets everyone talking about this desolate world - and why I disappear and reappeared months later. To me, it has been a minute. We pull up to a shanty house, and climb up on top of the roof from the truck cab's roof. Strange animals graze in tilled fields beside the house. In the hazy distance, the shape of a low mountain. There are no stars in the night sky. Inside, an old man and woman sit at a card table, lit only by candles. They look haggard, and project an aura of disdain. Despite appearancea, they are non threatening. To stay, we must give them objects we have or those we find. Barter to stay safe and hidden from those outside in the jungle. I show the old man a soap dispenser. I was holding before I was transported here - he takes it, and scuttles away with it to his room. "It's a start" he says. The two guys are out somewhere looking for things to trade. The girl goes to the bunk in the side room to sleep. I remain in the main room with the card table, cautiously watching the old man through his half-open doorway on my left. The old man is in his room, lit by the glow of half a dozen monitors and flat screen TVs. He seems to be watching security cameras. I awake to another alarm, and fall back asleep. It's just the girl, but she looks injured and dirty. We're in a dusty jungle, surrounded by thin, manic looking people. One recognizes me from before. He urges me to join them, understanding that unlike most who arrive here, I come and go - and can return with specific objects or supplies. This is valuable to this group of scavengers. I agree, as long as they leave the girl alone. I walk away with them, looking back at her. She's sitting in a jungle clearing, lit only by a fading torch when I awake. I wounder if the scavengers kept true to their word when I disappeared. This dream reminded me of another long ago with time dialiation occuring in an old house. I feel it is the same world as the timelooped ghost house I visited with my brother as well. It is an empty world, populated only by dreamers who arrive there. Time moves differently for many - a few hours for are years there for most. Yet for me, minutes.

I am in my grandmother's Lakefield downstairs living room, her chair is in the corner. A small child's table with a painted checkerboard sits in front of the fireplace.

My family is asking for my advice about how to best accomplish a task: "how do you best sort the recycle?", and other seemingly mundane household patterns. I answer and show them - for recycle, I crush waterbottles and reattaching the caps so they fit more to a bag. 

* * *

I am in the same houses' kitchen, sitting on a desktop computer facing the stairs. I am working on a Photoshop document with multiple layers. I composit together different sources to create a unique image - one that represents something else from an earlier dream. In it, there are 4 characters, 3 of which are in the top right corner. They are looking/speaking to 1 other in the bottom left corner. The creatures are blue, and are saying something to the person, who I think represented me. 

My mother stands in the room while I work. She is very angry about the state of her kitchen. She points to dishes, and the organization of cabinets. This is not my home, but I listen. I stop working on the computer and give her calm advice about the kitchen, much like the recycle sorting I gave my sister and brother earlier. 

I return to my work on the computer - there isn't much time left: I need to finish it, as another document exists just out of frame. This unseen one feels important and could reveal information that can help my family.

My mother continues to be agitated about her mother's kitchen, and begins to act strangely. She stands increasingly closer to me, staring me down while I work. She begins to strongly jab me with a finger, then angrily stare at me, seemingly trying to provoke an angry response. I finally lose my temper,a stand up telland  her "Please, stop that! Why are you acting this way?", she immediately becomes hurt and gestures to the kitchen, saying nothing. Having transfered blame for the kitchen to me for my provoked reaction, she stands near the sink, and continues to stare me down. 

I sit back down to finish the work I must. I take a cartoon image of "Garfield" and photoshop-remove everything except the tail and position it hanging down from the top over the 3 creatures. They now appear to be a single blue cat - the whole scene resembling an old Garfield comic with John Arbuckle, speaking to Garfield on the ceiling. 

As I colored the orange blue, and set the layer style to "color", it blends with the cartoon. However, Brody sits next to me. He studied the true nature of the image, and suggests that I change the layer's filter settings to another blending mode. I do, and it integrates better into the overall image, clarifying the whole. "Why is that?" I ask. "Because our filters are based on those we used in childhood," he responds.