Dream About Queen Of Beijing And Homemade Cookies

I was playing a video game and I kept getting jump scared and defeated by this chinese woman dresses as a samurai. When my character would be forced to kneel in defeat her face would overwhelm the screen. I talked to others about her with admiration and called her the queen of Beijing. She was a woman who brought life and wealth to the city/country of Beijing by bringing in an ATM machine. The dream shifts to my childhood home on the ranch. I am walking home with my parents sfrom the barn and we are discussing the merit of homemade cookies versus the ‘crap’ you get in the store. A graham cracker truck drives up the dirt road and delivers several cases of graham crackers in blue boxes to my mom. She waves her hand dismissively toward a neatly stacked pile of ither similar items and has the driver put the nlue boxes in thip of the gold boxes in the middle of the road. We continue home to make cookies while they explain that my admiration for the Queen of Beijing is not patriotic and she is an evil gangster, my mom hands me a cookie and shows me a set of cards attached at the corner with a purple ring. As she fans out the cards i see that they are recipies of special koolaid/ Jello cookies. She is ready to teach me how to make them and shre her recipe cards with me. I reach for them to choose, but she pulls them away and tells my dad that he should take me to a “class” first. He looks at me like he’s deciding if I am ready and looks at my mom and says it’s $10. I am excited to be invited to the “class” where I will have a vision and initiation and then maybe I can make the jello cookies finally. I tell dad I have $20 saved. He looks at me appraisingly and asks me my favorite song. I t is a country song about freedom bells, he nods like I have said the right thing and leaves the house to get transportation ready. I’m giddy. I rush to get ready but as I look i. The mirror I see my tshirt is ripped badly exposing my chest and abdomen. I am embarrassed and go to my mom. We go to my closet, but all of my shirts are gone. She acts exasperated and tells me to wear hers. As I look in her closet she pulls out this dingy white shirt with yellow stained armpits. I notice two of my western style shirts that go with my rockies jeans in her closet and I wonder if I will ever get them back. I complain about the stains and condition of the shirt she hands me and she looks at me like I am being spoiled and childish before pulling the shirt over my head and dressing me like I can’t do it myself. I look at myself and decide it’s ok and worth it for the initiation. I grab my shoes and try to wash my hands, but the sink is dirty and blocked. I work around it and follow my dad to the “class”. I hand my money to this asian woman who looks like a sister of the Queen of Beijing. She acts like she is happy to see me and side eyes my dad like they are having a silent conversation about me . She asks me about my favorite song and I tell her the same song I told my dad. She seems pleased and hands me a single serving of hummus with an Kalamata olive thst I squeeze into my mouth from a paper sample cup. She takes me outside ans has me walking around this porch and following a few people who look to be in a semi- trance. They remind me of horses hooked to an exercise carousel just walking around a big circle around a large post on the porch, down into the dry dirt, trudging along through the dust and dirt in front of the porch then climbing these difficult and uneven boulders to get back on the porch again, walking like they are in a trance and being led by the nose back down the porch to the end with the pillar, back into the dirt, back to the difficult boulder strps to get on the porch again. Over snd over they trudge. I am placed in thid line of people behind a woman with dark hair who is crying softly begging for a vision to help her “see” how to help her family with money. The Asian woman walks next to me as I feel myself slipping into a dull trance state trudging through the path with these other people. She asks me what my favorite song by a rock band named Iron Maiden. I answer with a dong name and know it is a song with heavy bells. She seems pleased. As we reach the difficult boulder steps yo mount the porch, she asks me to push some of the boulders back a little bit further away from the porch. I go to reach for them commenting that I am not afraid of bugs and spiders. The rocks are covered in terrifying insects. Giant tarantula hawks and sickly plague spiders that I know can really hurt me. But the woman chuckles, calling me silly. She tells me that the tarantula hawk id actually a cockroach and mocks me about being afraid of the ‘harmless’ spiders after I had just said that I wasn’t afraid of spiders. “ these are just rolypolies and when I look down there are rollypolies under the rocks. I pick one up and am surprised to find thry are harmless rollypollies. We move the rocks and the woman in front of me stumbles. When she falls vapid blank faced woman cover her with plastic bags and a blanket and I know. They are killing her. Suffocating her with the plastic bag while looking like they cover her with a blanket pretending to take care of her ss she struggles for her breath and her life. I’m horrified snd the woman leading me around is displeased with my reaction. She yells at my dad asking why he brought such a willful child, and screaming that I am not slipping into the trance. I watch, horrified as they drag the dark haired woman’s body away, glaring at me like I have committed a grave sin. The Asian woman who is handling me goes from yelling at my dad to smiling sweetly at me and leading me away from the carousel and to a stall, planning on drugging me again and hypnotizing me before putting me back into the carousel. I am terrified but also excited to please my parents. I wake up to my dog barking at the storm outside. I sm very thirsty and my joints hurt, especially my hands.