I don't remember how this dream starts.
My dad comes over to me and tells me that I need a buzzcut. I begrudgingly agree but don't see how we could get one here. We're walking on the sidewalk of a typical car-centric commercial area found in the suburbs of America. it's calm, and not many cars are around. It feels cool and there's a slight breeze.
He makes a right into a short exit that has a gas station. The brand was unintelligible, but the station used a red, orange, and white color scheme. One of the pumps dispensed water instead of gasoline and he calls me over. He splashes the water on my head and starts shaving. I don't remember how he got the shaver. This goes on for a bit while my dad says a few unintelligible prayers. A group of middle school aged boys see what we're doing and make their way over.
They start giggling and shouting to give me a fade haircut. I scowled, but my dad just chuckles and says maybe next time. My anger boils over and i slap one of the kids. I immediately recognize my error, and fearing retribution, I take the kids into the gas station market. I tell the kid I slapped that I made a mistake and he deserves an apology. I get down on one of my knees and deliver a short monologue. He accepts it and I tell him that he is mature for accepting my apology.
The kid turns to his friends and ask what time it is. Instinctively, I say it's 7:30pm. One of the kids pulls out their smartphone, and the lock screen clock reads 7:31pm. I felt accomplished by my guesswork.
The kids leave. It's just me and my dad, and I look over at the selection of chips. There's a laminated paper attached to the metal shelf by small metal hoops. I lift it to read. It was very long, and I was bored by its contents. I think it was about someone trying to get a job and to contact them if you need a graphic designer.
Near the end of the paper however, it discusses a music box that turns the world into hell when played. Somehow, I have this music box in my possession. It's painted yellow but intended to look like gold. It's a rectangular prism, but has a skinnier waist where turnkey is located. There doesn't seem to be an opening to let music come out.
I exit the station. By now it's dark, yet still visible as if there was illumination from somewhere. I'm in a flat, freshly-cut field of grass. I place the music box on the ground and it starts playing on its own. I don't remember the tune, or if it even played anything. At the start, it's stationary. But over time, the box warps to mimic the swaying motion of tall grass in the wind and intensifies as it goes on. The sky shifts between a red tint and a blue tint repeatedly, slowly, but picking up the pace.
I notice that the field I'm on no longer resembles the commercial area. Instead, it's forested and filled with strange animal noises. I walk away from the music box, letting it rot the world. I want to see my dad again, so I make my journey back to the gas station. Going through a clearing in a forest, I noticed strange cyan cloaked figures that giggle when I walk by. They don't do anything but unnerve me. The forest ends at a strange mountain, with stone colored in a swirl of yellow, rose, and cyan. I make my way up, surprisingly having the capability to scale a mountain without gear. I don't remember the journey, but suddenly I'm nearing the top. The dream tells me I'm very high up. The top of the mountain is flat, seemingly man-made. I see these mushrooms growing on the stone ground. They're small and red with large white dots. I pick a few up but lose interest and drop them. Another piece of fungus grew near the mushrooms. It looked like the typical disc-shaped ones found on dying bark, but with fluorescent pink and orange for color.
I don't remember where my journey led me next, but I'm standing in front of a supermarket. The dream told me that this had been the gas station. I walk in and find it empty, but luckily my dad is there and he's just going down the aisles. He seems unbothered by the change in environment and stops at the chips section to look at the selection.
I walk around the virtually empty store, no employees could be found. Its design is typical for a middle-income household market. White tiling on the floor with specs of color. The shelves in the aisles are black and constructed in a wireframe manner. Signs hang from the ceiling, though I didn't take a glance. The layout is also organized in a usual fashion for this type of supermarket.
I make my way over to the frozen section. Surprisingly, there's two people: a mother and her daughter. They're standing in front of some ice cream cakes. I walk over and I'm joined by my dad. We're all just looking at the frozen sweets when the daughter goes on her phone and sees that the world has turned into horrific anarchy. By this point, I had completely forgotten that I was responsible for plunging the world into hell.
The daughter worries for her and her mother's safety. Me and my dad feel obligated to ensure they get home safe.
The environment changes without regards to the narrative. Me and my dad are on the second floor of a house. I make a hand motion for him to follow me and as we head down the stairs. We see a person, and my dream tells me that this is my neighbor, but they don't look like any neighbor I have seen before. They're a large, tall man, possibly seven feet and covered with various colored, patterned cloths that make up a robe. It covers his hair and his body. Circular, thick-rimmed glasses stick to his face, and his skin has patches of a sickly green. All around, he looks untrustworthy and just stares at us. We walk by him without saying a word. I get the impression that the silence was the conversation.
Past the dining room and into the living room adjacent to the hallway with the front door, sits two young men. One has lightly tanned skin, dark frazzled hair, a short bushy mustache, and dark brown eyes. He's sitting on a bench and looks tired and a bit unnerved. Beside him sits the other young man, but they are completely wrapped in colorful patterned cloths. It's seem like the way he's wrapped would inhibit his mobility.
The daughter and mother are standing in the hallway lit by a yellowish light bulb in an ornate black lantern hanging from the ceiling. They say they're ready to go and the daughter checks her phone again. On an indeterminable social media platform, a video plays of just darkness, but you can hear screaming the background.
This makes everyone feel uncomfortable.
The young men get up and escort the women out of the house. Me and my dad look at each other before watching them leave. We're in the door frame as they slowly sink into the black void in front of them.
Then I woke up.