Dream: Dead Bolt
-I’m in the basement of grandma’s house and there’s a party going on. Grandma is there, but so are Andrew and a bunch of people I don’t recognise
-people sitting on the stairs say something about my dad
-I go upstairs and Leslie is now with me. Dad is wearing a jacket similar to mine and walks out the kitchen door, very angry
-to keep him out, I close the door, put my finger on the lock, but then decide that I (mentally) can’t do it. I say, “Leslie, lock the door!” with a distinct sense of urgency. She doesn’t move or even react
-dad turns around on the porch, to come to the door. Quickly, I turn the lock, but dad starts yelling with a vicious look on his face, like a mad dog
-I turn the key on the second lock, the deadbolt
-the door is completely secure, but dad keeps yelling
I’m slightly less confused about what I’d like to do with my life. Psychology seems like the best path. Introspection seems to be my forte, and perhaps I could extend my interest in the workings of my own mind to others.
I HATE this house. I want to leave.