My dad has a mountain bike that needs new tires. We drive around and I know of a tire center that's been recently been added to a gas station. It's around the Gratiot and 8 Mile area. We go there and a salesman tells me he'll sell us the tires but we also have to buy tires for our car. I tell him to forget it and call him an asshole under my breath. He pulls out a gun and shoots my dad, who's sitting in the front seat of the car. At first I think he's been killed, but the bullet has been lodged in his lower jaw. We call 91 and wait around for the police to arrive.
A blog to share my dreams. No, not my aspirations, but my actual dreams. I find our subconscious world absolutely fascinating--maybe someone can give me a bit of insight into just what these crazy dreams mean. Have at it world!
Wednesday, October 7, 2020
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