I was hoping to be able to start this off with at least a somewhat ridiculous dream, so here it goes, apologies for lack of being as ridiculous as I had hoped. This little bit of my subconscious happened right before the start of first semester grade 10 exams, back when I still had a "job", which might explain some things.
Two of my best friends (M and S, for future reference) and I are walking through the University of Toronto campus, which is now situated in New York City, during the week before school starts in order to get our minds off of impending essays that we would inevitably have to do to pass school. Clearly the only feasible remedy to this would be to have a picnic, and we did this with vigor.
During into our panic, we run into a schoolmate of ours who is also stressing about this essay. We rise from the carefully laid-out picnic blanket and decide to go shopping. We tread merrily across the cobblestones adorning the streets of New York to get to a mall, where we go to the nearest Jacob store and begin filling up our cart. M picks up an obnoxious shirt covered wholly in chains and sequins, which we all protest to be absolutely garish, and she decides against buying it.
In order to leave the store, we must take the horizontal elevator, which we board and subsequently use to transport us to a lower level of the store, where we start walking toward a Starbucks. We then happen to meet up with other employees from a store which shall remain nameless, who are all dressed in full work attire. We all talk for a few minutes, and all of the workers except for one whom I had never seen before, leaves us for bigger and better things.
Because I am apparently more personable and have some semblance of social skills in my dreams, I lean over and give this stranger a hug, and he walks the remainder of the way to the Starbucks with his arm around me, all the while I am trying to fight him off (there go my social skills). I order a chocolate chip marble cookie once it is my turn at the cash, and the stranger attempts to give me a hug, but I beat his arms until he gives up.
From the Starbucks, we all descend into a basement parking lot that happens to be inhabited with zombie goths. The majority of these zombie goths have grey skin and greenish-teal mohawks, and I'm subsequently terrified; we leave and congregate on a patio above ground. There we see another one of our friends pushing a full shopping cart around, and desperately looking for a way to get home to Woodbridge. M offers to help this friend find her way home.