Blackface, you were there.

We were outside at a Rec center with a group of people.

Then you came and sat down next to me.

You spoke to me, and you were nice.—Really nice

I was confused as to why you were being nice to me.

You know that you don’t like me, and I don’t like you.

You were engaging with everyone, and then these two men came, and one of them took my purse.

I attempted to take it back, but he brandished a knife.

You, the hero of this dream, were fighting with the man.

A few others jumped the other man.

You got stabbed, but I don’t think that it did you any harm.

I didn’t see any blood.

I managed to get my purse back and pulled my gun on the man.

Someone said, “You gone mess around and shoot him.” —AKA you, Blackface.

The thief pulled his gun out, and everyone gave up the fight.

The man was punishing us one by one.

He was asking you questions, and you were pointing out the people who had done things.

He was carving letters into people’s butt cheeks.—Lol…

Like the book “The Scarlet Letter.”

Two butts in, and the rest started to fight the men again.

The dream has a meaning because it’s a recurring dream from the past.

It’s something about judging or being judged.

Your eyes, though, when you were looking at me.

What’s scary is that there’s a lot of intelligence behind those eyes.

They’ve always frightened me.—And you know why

In the dream, you protected me.

“But in real life, though!”—You stay whooping my ass

At least you’re nice to me in my dreams.

I’ll figure it out later.