The Fateful Port-a-Potty

I've needed (in reality,) a new cell phone for a while, and I suspect that sparked the initial catalyst for this dream story to start.

In the dream, I awoke in "my" house and needed to poop. I didn't have any toilet paper, so I decided to go across the street where there was a row of port-a-potties set up behind a large building. Silhouettes wandered around in the night, distant drunk ramblings and cheers illuminated the horizon.

I went into the first port-a-potty, pulled the pin out of the TP dispenser, grabbed a few rolls and stuck them into my belt loops. (apparently my belt loops were hella loose.) I noticed, as I was doing this, there were tons of half-full liquor bottles - gin, tequila, vodka. I considered drinking them but found that disgusting, but realizing that this meant there had clearly been a shit ton of drunk people in these outhouses I decided I'd check the other ones for any dropped valuables.

The first two had nothing, but the third outhouse had a crumpled pair of pants on the ground. Cautious of gross they might be, I picked 'em up and felt a heavy weight in the pockets. BAM. I pulled out a Samsung Galaxy S4 and a wallet that was chock full of something. I dumped the pants on the ground and hustled out quickly.

As I stepped out of the outhouse I found the sun had completely risen, despite being completely dark a minute ago and the new phone saying it was only 4:45 AM. My first step was to log onto facebook - which means I had to log whoever's phone this was out. As I went to log him out, I noticed he shared a lot of friends with me... but friends of mine from BC. No close friends of mine lived in Nova Scotia... I thought this quite strange, but there were other people I didn't recognize, and I didn't recognize his name (or tried to avoid it so in case I knew them I wouldn't feel guilty about stealing their phone.) It looked like our facebooks had been merged. I began to wonder if I was being set up

as I signed out of facebook I read the last of his received text messages. The timestamps said they'd all been sent in the last hour - presumably either after he'd lost his pants or right before he'd lost them. They said things like

i'll fucking kill you

we're coming fuckhead

you fucked up

and I figured maybe that's why he dumped the phone. Were they tracking him via GPS? By now I'd returned home and was feeling pretty uncomfortable because if they were tracking him by GPS, they'd be coming to my house. So, I went to chuck the phone out. I was scared to even open the front door.

I saw my "dad" walk down the hallway.

"They're gonna kill us," I warned him.

"We're fine, man. I'll get some ice cream."

"They'll kill you," I persisted, "as soon as you get that ice cream."

He wandered into the kitchen, wandered out with the ice cream, and was promptly decimated by a barrage of bullets that someone climbing through our hallway window blasted through his body with an AK.

I fled back to my room and slammed the door, considering jumping out the window despite it being 8 stories tall. (Don't ask how the guy managed to climb into the hallway window.)

At this point, I realized I was dreaming, and the terror of having a man with a shotgun in my house was getting to me and I remembered that any time I get killed in a dream (which happens way too often) I wake up. So, I went outside and laughed at the assailant.

"Ha! It's not gonna hurt me when you shoot me, buds."

I was still a bit apprehensive as he cocked his gun. "Oh, it'll hurt."

He shot 14 rounds into me and they sort of fizzled out on my arm but didn't wake me up.

"Come on!" I shouted, irritated. I really wanted to wake up. (Stupid me - would have been a perfect opportunity to explore a lucid dream)

He shot me again and I woke up - coincidentally just as my friend rolled over and bumped into me. Maybe if she hadn't I'd have had a chance to keep dreaming...