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Impure At The Undone Bar

Date: 3-Nov-2019/9:56+3:00

Tags: , , ,

Characters: me, leather jacket man, dark haired man, woman

I was traveling in the back seat of a car, being driven by a man in a leather jacket. Though I was inside, it seemed like I was laying down and going to fly out...it was also very cold, with wind due to being a convertible.
With a touch-screen tablet in my hand, I was looking at Google Maps, and trying to figure out the name of a bar there that I believed or somehow recalled had good happy hour food. My impression was that it was near the intersection of Melrose and Fairfax Ave. in Los Angeles, and that it was called something like "Undertow".
This was a very abstract impression of location, which I believe was more about being relative to where I lived. I once lived near Santa Monica Boulevard and Farifax Ave.
Switching the map application into street view, there was construction shown in the pictures where I could clearly see finished buildings out the window. A location pin showed a current business listed called "Undone".
me: "The pictures on Street View are all too old to verify, but I think it must be this place called 'Undone'. Also, could you close the roof--I feel like I'm going to fly out of the car?"
He seemed unfamiliar with the buttons in the front seat of the car, as if it were not his. Fumbling with the controls he managed to get the mechanical top to come up and cover the car. But something else emerged from the roof as well. At first I thought it looked like it was pushing hardware out the top for some kind of machine guns...but decided that was silly, and it must be some sort of bike rack.
We parked the car and walked into some kind of indoor mall. A woman at a coffee kiosk greeted us as "Gentlemen" and tried to offer us some promotional product they were selling.
I refused the offer, but he seemed interested so I let him go talk to her. Trying to walk in the mall I realized I was very un-coordinated, while other people seemed to move normally. When the man rejoined me as we walked to the bar, I asked him what the deal was.
me: "Okay, so this is pretty much typical in nearly every dream. Everyone around me seems to be able to walk or run just fine. For me it's stiff and slow, and nearly impossible. Why?"
leather jacket man: "I've heard about the technique, but only in commercials. The weak connection is deliberate--to remove some of your ego from the experience. It's to make what happens easier for you to deal with."
me: "Well it probably makes me look like I'm on drugs to the people who see me here."
We walked by one of the spots in the mall that I believed to be the bar I had said we needed to go to. It was hidden behind a sort of impromptu wall, so you wouldn't see it unless you got close and walked behind the wall.
The man in the leather jacket put his arm around me and pulled me close. I tried to get him to take his arm off.
leather jacket man: (insistently) "No I have to have my arm around you when we go in."
me: "Uh, why do you need to hold me like that?  To make people think we're gay?"
He didn't answer and just pulled me inside. At first the bar seemed to me as if it were empty, but our arrival seemed to make a packed bar full of people materialize.
Using our arm-bond as a chain, he wedged us so we physically clogged the entrance way. A dark haired man tried to enter but was blocked.
dark haired man: (smirking) "Oh, I see, he's with you."
The man in the leather jacket still had an arm free, and we were close enough to the bar that a woman seated at it could reach us. She outstretched her arm and held something that looked like a checkbook.
woman: "This is for you."
leather jacket man: "I don't want that."
woman: "Well, then just toss it, or get rid of it somehow."
I had a bad feeling about the environment, and that the attempt to get rid of this was related to a crime of some kind. The bad feeling got worse when I noticed two people standing next to each other where it seemed like they were taking blood from one person and pumping it into someone else.
My vision was a bit fuzzy related to what was going on, but one of the people dealing with the needles and blood transfer was wearing a black jacket with a blocky outlined white font on it that said "impure". I got a good look at it and it was squared, e.g. the dot over the i was a white rectangle. The letters were somewhat fused together.
The impure-jacket-guy was closer to me, but the other person involved in the blood transfer seemed to be wearing something related to the Veteran's Administration.
Further down the bar I saw a woman in a nurse's outfit, with syringes in a plastic container. The syringes contained a yellow liquid. Already feeling a definite presence of evil influences, I wriggled out of the arm lock to try and get out of the bar, but the nurse caught up with me.
me: (throwing up arms) "No thank you!"
She took one of the syringes and managed to get past my uncoordinated effort to block her and injected me in the neck.
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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction —in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?