A Trip To Publix - dreamnotfound

Part 1

Swish.
The Publix's glass doors automatically opened as Dream entered. The heavy smell of hand sanitizer hit his nose like a brick- it was a bold, almost bloody punch, then a lingering, numb sting of cleaner smells. Its potency irritated Dream briefly, but he proceeded into the superstore caring about anything but the smells.
Dream passed the cash register section and drifted through the flower bouquet section. The smell of bleach based cleaners clawed miserably through the smell of daisies and carnations, eventually weaning into an afterthought of a scent in the overpowering exposure of floral goods. The store seemed busy today- it always was busy on... what weekday was it? The grip summer had on Dream's mind wrenched any idea of day or week or month from his general knowledge. It was something to laugh about, so he laughed. A passing woman with a small infant of a daughter and toddler of a son scowled at Dream. The son grabbed onto the mother's silklike flowery skirt, out of fear of strangers likely. Summer follies brushed aside, Dream was astounded at the immense amount of people. Two babies- separate mothers and families- whined and somehow their noise pierced Dream's ears over the dispersed muttering and commotion produced by the masses of Floridians. He wondered if one was the same kid that had passed him shortly ago. Dream didn't like babies. Kids had a pass, but Dream saw babies and their little squishy faces covered in spit repulsive.
Dream felt the air get colder. Looking around, he instantly deduced he'd found his way into the dairy isle. An elderly woman filled her cart with now four jugs of milk, reaching for a fifth as Dream walked past her. He opened a fridge door and a cold breath of Publix hit him in the face. Dream considered counting the times Publix hit him in the face with things as he grabbed a half quart of 2% milk. Gifting his shopping buggy the first product of the day, he pushed on through the isles as he saw in his peripheral vision the old woman grabbing a sixth quart of milk.
Dream rolled down the bread aisle. The floor appeared to have a broken bag of flour. He made his way around the scattered white powder and looked up to see if any employees were aware of the spill. Steering his cart past the good used for baking, he slowed as he scanned the variety of wheat loaves. Not sure of the nutritional difference between packages, he decided on the cheapest. White Wonder bread, and pulled the plastic baggy down from a shelf barely above his head.
Dream searched his way through the aisle, wandering down a section of canned food and packaged chips. The white polished shelves stretched as he scanned the brands and logos. He plucked a metal tin of compressed vegetables and plopped them in his cart. He unrolled the sticky note in his pocket and scribbled out one of the boxes.

Everything left was at the other end of the store, by the exit. He sighed. People bustled with carts like cattle 4 aisles ahead of him. A wall static to him.
This was supposed to be a short trip, I have to record something at three. Dream started down an end aisle with the intent to find his breakfast cereal first before some kids grabbed his duel box of Frosted Flakes and Cocoa Puffs. The dirty blonde Floridian pushed through the other Floridians (perhaps dirty, but none blonde to his knowledge) like trudging through mud. The wall of people seemed never ending. He prayed to know what could possibly be attracting them all to that location (like locusts, he compares in his head). After feeling himself get gradually more agitated, his steps through the pushing and shoving people felt more forceful and more aggressive. Dream felt something sour rise up in his throat.
"Excuse me," Dream spat passive aggressively at the next person who shoved him. Said person refused to look at him- even taking the liberty to shove him again so they could access a supply of ground beef nearby. Brilliant red lettering promoted a two for one sale for an unknown product on a nearby wall. An annoying hum of modern pop music raved on the speakers. More talking between people. Dream felt like he was pushing through floodwater. Every other second someone or something would shove against his side. Dream was in a never ending push and shove battle with the prize being measly breakfast cereal. He fought back, of course, but...
Dream was growing tired. Angry as well, of course. He cursed out people once or twice. He pushed and shoved back. He was part of the hoard. His one goal to get through and find the cereal had transformed into a disgusting little check list of spite, gaining revenge on other rude customers. It was a spiral of wrath, and Dream was getting sucked in too easily. He let himself get carried away. He let himself get lost. He let himself be lost.
Dream's arms were tired. His legs were tired. He was tired. He stopped fighting back against the shoves. His shopping cart was his only support and he slumped over it. He was a wasp in a beehive, all for some cereal. In the eye of a storm for sugary flakes. Maybe it was worth it.
I'm tired, Dream numbly thought.
It didn't smell like flowers or cleaner. Just like sweat. Tears.
Blood.

Then,
A green hand grabbed onto Dream's wrist.

A yank.

In a flurry of emotion, Dream was pulled from the pool of exasperation.
He fell into the ground beef fridge- he felt a package burst open underneath him and he cursed under his breath, knowing he'd have to pay for that. Of course, his worries about that didn't fester, as his confusion about whatever the fuck that was surfaced.
Dream shakily stood up from the plexiglass icebox. His jeans were damp with ground meat juices. He looked off towards the crowd of people. Their feral appearance had diluted to simply shopping customers, as peaceful as you could imagine them. A facade. Dream furrowed his eyebrows at the unpredictability of the Publix today. It was never this bad, except maybe on Memorial Day. Dream patted his jeans to assess just how damp with beef juices his jeans were, but a crumpled paper in his pocket caught his attention as his hand brisked the jutted out denim. He pulled it out; a half filled shopping list presented itself impatiently. Dream was reminded survival was not his goal for his trip at Publix, but instead, shopping was. He read over the list.
"Cereal, eggs, peanut butter." Dream stuffed the note back into his pocket. "Cereal, eggs, peanut butter." He muttered as he switched his focus to the area around him. His cart was nowhere to be seen. Lost in the hurricane, it seemed. Cereal was down aisle six- the one he was right in front of. Something else was nearby too, though, just down one other aisle- the restroom. Somewhere to calm the hell down and reevaluate everything.
Convenient.
Dream started down the aisle leading to the bathroom empty handed, where he began in terms of the collection process. Something fascinated him. This thing was the fact that the store appeared to be entirely empty- or at least this aisle. The rummaging of surrounding customers was muted by some low toned static, a blanket of sound covering up talking, crying, yelling. This combined with the sweet, innocent melody of Carly Rae Jespen's Call Me Maybe wisping through the speakers sent Dream into a conflicted state of mind. It made him irritated. He felt like misbehaving. However, a distraction spared him from making mistakes, and this distraction was pure childish pleasure.
He found a sick sort of amusement out of scuffing the floors with his shoes. The yellowish white linoleum flooring was riddled with a trail of scuffs leading to Dream. A chirping of rubber on wax signalled to anyone and everyone right where Dream was. Dream didn't care about anyone knowing. There wasn't anything sinister to this trip, or any interactions of the past half hour. He was overthinking.
Right?
Dream scuffed his path down to the bathroom. Sweet, sweet relief. He pushed open the swinging door to the tile wall haven. First stop, the sinks.