Dream Journal ft. Teacher

So last night’s dream features my teacher, d.l., from my blog “our teacher is bullying us.”

I was in elementary or Kintergarden, we were learning colors so whatever grade you learn to draw and color in. My teacher is d.l., she gives us an assignment and I partner up with someone. We all had one bowl per pair of students. Our assignment was to make a color with food coloring in our half of the bowl while our partner made a different color in their half. We did so, but then it started bubbling up, which turned our project white from the bubbles somehow. I went crying to our teacher, explaining how it somehow turned white and she yelled at me, leaving my partner out of it, explaining how I was a failure and tried to show me how it was done, but when her example failed to turn colors she got even more mad at me saying how she couldn’t believe I would do something like this.

I don’t remember the rest of the dream.

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Dream Journal

Note: I’ve been listening to tons of creepypastas lately for a sort of entertainment while I paint.  I’m also going to stop numbering the journals because it’s going to be hard to remember. 

I was sitting on the floor of my living room while petting my parakeet on the head, when she waddled on back into her cage and started to bathe herself.  She ended up nearly drowning herself and I saw her body go limp.  I promptly picked her up out of her bath and started lightly squeezing her, being careful since she is a parakeet.  All of the water was, for lack of a better word, coughed up and she was back to normal.  

I could be wrong, but I think the following is a separate dream.

I was in a shower that, for some reason, had nothing but a curtain separating it from the rest of the area, and I could sense some little kids trying to peek in.  I was correct, and when I heard them giggling and whispering about their victory, distracted from the curtains, I decided to get close to the curtains and positioned myself to stare at them eye to eye when they next decided to peek.  Once they returned and saw how close I was they screamed and ran away.  I felt accomplished after that.

Some time went by and something happened that I can’t remember, maybe a fire, but we had to evacuate the building.  I made my way to the staircase and found myself in a place that fairly resembled SCP-087, (“Foundation,” or, The endless staircase).  I began descending the staircase, when I came upon some colorful box, seemingly a jukebox, with a company name “maxim” on it.  It started speaking, and it told me stories about a little clown toy, and how it had been passed down person to person, usually from people losing and finding it, for centuries.  Nobody seemed to want to keep it, and it had been discarded over and over, telling me about each owner.  The last person to have it was an elderly lady, and it seemed as though she was begging me through the story not to listen any further, but I continued.  There was a company slogan for the doll that I cannot remember.  The jukebox told me about the company, maxim, and how it needed it’s story to be spread like a virus.  I ended up finding a way out and drove home.  Once I got there, my car stopped working and for some reason my house door wasn’t shut but the glass door in front of it was.  Waiting for me there were three dogs behind the glass, I knew they were my dogs even though I have only one dog irl, and they had weird looks on their faces.  I turned around and saw a yellow van with polka-dots in different colors around it.  A clown came out and threw a doll at me, he missed and it hit my garage door leaving behind orange paint.  I tried to run, but my feet wouldn’t take me fast enough.  I eventually hijacked the van and drove as fast as I could, but the clown was fast and continued to be a few feet behind me.  Once I saw that I made a hard u-turn hoping to slow him down, and he seemed to have vanished.  The rest is a blur and all I can say is I remember another eery thing happening.