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Acidic Buildings

Monday, September 28 2015 Views: 168

Something at mom and dad's work, along with others in my family lineage had become busy very suddenly because of a sudden change in pay and other things, making it difficult for them at work. So in short, they needed a baby sitter for me and my cousin. Neither me, nor my cousin was especially enthusiastic about this. Not only did we not really know each other well, we knew next to nothing about each other and it felt like we were part of two different worlds that should never have connected to begin with.

They put the two of us in the and of some man I had never seen before. He didn't look like a very kind man and had eyes similar to the one of a killer, or some sort of anti-social guy with no regards of humans needs or feelings.

Understandably though, he wasn't very happy to have kids forced into his care right at his workplace, with saws, hammers and spikes scattered about everywhere you looked. He kept telling mom to pick somebody else to the point of it feeling like he could pick out a knife any second. Mom seemed to notice this, and playing dumb she just left with a happy, goofy grin and leaving with my cousin's parents.

We were left alone with this guy and his working buddy who only really stood in the background, giving a couple of snarky remarks before fading back into the background. Looking back at it, it didn't feel like as much of a working place than that he probably did it illegally for his own self gain. I almost could bet he had stolen all of the tools from a shop close by. 

"Okay then, kids," he said, turning on his heels to face me and my cousin with his hands clasped behind his back, "I don't want either of you to hurt yourself, because I won't waste any time taking you to the hospital. If you get hurt in any way I'm sending you off immediately and you'll deal with your problem by yourself."

Me and my cousin just shared puzzled looks before nodding in understanding. We definitely felt like this guy was bad news, but without anyone around we had no way to really defend ourselves. We had to rely on this guy who was without any regards to human needs, and had to deal with him for possibly a few hours, or maybe even days.

He confiscated our phones and any other ways we may have had access to the outside world before he gave us a tour of his workingplace. I was about to tell him off that I needed that, but he stopped me.

"I don't want you taking photos or calling the cops on me. And also, if you're not careful, these could break. If they break, your parents may force me to buy new ones."

He was extremely fixed on money. It started to piss me off and I had to muster my power to not snap at him. I just turned my head over to my cousin, trying to keep him calm and make a few laughs to keep my own sanity in place.

We walked through many separate buildings that had just been finished building as he explained the building process. The first thing I could notice was that each building seemed to be the exact same. The same construction, colour and bricks, the same garden and garage. The only difference seemed to be the flowers and how they were planted.

We finally stopped by one of those building that were under production, and apparently the garden wasn't actually just soil and dirt, but wooden boards covered in a thin layer of grass and brown mats. The ground beneath was extremely uneven with almost merely rocks. I started wondering if it was built on a mountain, that we were climbing a mountain without noticing.

"I hope to get this building done before the grass wilts, or I'll be in trouble," I heard the con-artist mutter in a low voice before he raised his head and cocked it over to look at us, "Anyway, let's look inside the building. I bet that's what you want to anyway. Just don't. Touch. Anything."

As we passed through the doors, the rooms looked much more unfinished than the outside had it seem. It was barely even painted, with only a kitchen with floor-piles, a stove, sink and some kitchen supplies being the only thing seemingly close to completion. The house had no staircase and no ceiling, but it had a roof and windows.

He then told us not to touch any of the surfaces unless we wanted to regret it. Then my cousin utters his first words, ridden in anxiety and confusion.

"Um, what about the floor then?"

"Well, you're wearing shoes, so it should be fine. We shouldn't be inside for too long, though. You may not have any shoes left otherwise."

My cousin then impulsively looked down at his shoes with a concerned expression before the con-man continued his dialogue and he followed him.

I stayed behind, suddenly weirdly facinated by some yellow-tinted dirt over the sink. As I heard them talking in the distance I tried to reach for the dirt, attempting to avoid the surfaces from touching any of my clothes or skin. As my index-finger touched it, it felt almost like touching a pile of dust. My finger became more dry and I wanted to wash it off, but as I tried to use my sleeve to open the tap, the only thing that came out was a loud humming vibrating across the room.

I quickly tried to press down on the handle of the tap and looked over at my sleeve which had become coated in yellow dust as well, seeming to rip apart the seconds I looked at it. 

I decided to just look for the two and not think too much about what I just did, and the man became red in the face. His face twisted into a sour expression as he asked me where I had been. I just said I had to look at something, hiding my hand behind my back, trying not to touch any of my clothing with the substance, just in case.

He seemed suspicious of me, but later just turned around and kept talking about what he did earlier.

As we started leaving the house, the man soon stops in his tracks by the back-door, asking us to hide behind him. From behind his back I could see a group of about five or six men covered in charcoal-black suits and black sunglasses standing in a straight line by the garage. They started talking to him in a monotone voice about the houses and some sort of weird, illegal substance he's been using on the buildings. It was described as some weird things I didn't recognise, but I remember them describing it as a sticky powder that would have anything it touched to burn or rot - like lungs, skin or other things with living bacteria or cells. And as they said that, I looked at my finger and noticed it had become almost completely black and wrinkly and my nail had become yellow, starting to fall off.

The con-man tells the two of us to leave, that he would take care of it. Without much hesitating, I run through the house and hides in a bush. I then wonder where my cousin could be, and just spots him run across the street with some people looking at him like they'd seen someone running away from an apocalyptic event. I wasn't sure if it was safe to just run out on the street with all the people around to witness it, so I just sat still in the bushes with all the bugs until I woke up.

Additional Comments:

This "cousin" I had in this dream was none I'm actually familiar with in my daily waking life. And the con-artist had similar features in his personality to Stan from Gravity Falls.

This user is requesting interpretations for this dream. Tip: It's always good to interpret from the point of view as if it was your dream and what it might mean to you vs. what you think it means to them. You may leave a comment below.

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