Lael came over to my house and told me why W.S. Hathaway wasn't a very good writer lately. Grainger came up the stairs and I threw mixed vegetables at him. Matt, watching all this, decided to leave. I was suddenly was in the old old house (my house of 18 years) in the upstairs master bedroom.
Then I was going to a Kids in the Hall live performance. They had an audience participation portion and it was set up a lot like a political convention mixed with a lecture hall. They walked onstage, did one sketch, and walked off. I thought it was part of the show and I just sat there, expecting them to come back. They sent a tired blond woman to look over everyone's projects. She told me it was good, but I wrote my name in the wrong corner and so i'll have to leave. I told her it was a good 10-minute encapsulation of my graduate school experience.
We (I don't know who I was with) were trying to keep up with Kevin MacDonald, but he ducked into a grocery store or a hardware store. Since we lost him, the guy I was with found this crackhouse lookin' place that had a warped front door. Written on it was "home of the vocal star of Powerpuff Girls: Episode Nine." My friend just barged in, knocking on the door while opening it. He immediately began to look at the softcore porn laying around. The vocal star shrieked and took us downstairs. I looked through her books while she and my friend talked. She had three copies of Mother Goose ("One is for the pictures," she said. "Did you color in yours this pretty? I didn't think so.") I also found her pulp fiction collection, featuring Earl Stanley Gardner's "The Case of the Man who went to the Planets for Cheese-Colored Guns." A leggy model was on the front, of course.
I told Howard all about Koko from The Cat Who... series. He was somewhat interested, but not very.
I was taking some math and science classes at Collegiate because I was horribly unskilled. A lanky guy wearing a cheerleading outfit came to my house and performed a cheer for me. It was at once both flattering and pathetic. Matt seemed amused and I was embarrassed. At that moment I thought, "What the hell am I doing at Collegiate? I'm 23 years old; I don't want to take high school classes. I've got my master's, for god's sake."
I was watching the Women's World Cup soccer game. A cloud full of confetti starting showering the goalie with paper. I read her lips as she muttered, "I can deal. I can deal."
A Japanese woman was walking with me up to her working-class two-bedroom home. She told me to look at the babies, then moved a rock to show me sixteen eggs buried in the dirt.
I was moving out of my parents' house. I found a bag with stale cheese garlic bread and a purple bathtowel. I threw it all away because it stank.
I was stirring mixed vegetables and steak strips together in the microwave, but as I stirred it, it disappeared.
There were a bunch of weird ones last night. In one scene, I dreamed I had nails in my legs. They were one-inch long acupuncture-type pins.
I was also living in a historic place. Howard had printed up postcards of it for the historical society. I woke up one morning and Barbara A. was leading a tour through our house. Dad was sitting in his chair staring at a wood stove instead of the TV. I went through the postcards and discovered that my room used to be "the demolition room."
I don't think it was officially a high school reunion, but Jon, Priya, and a bunch of other people were there. Jon said, "I just thought we all should be together when they announced the Mideast peace treaty. It's a historic time, you know." I just couldn't understand why it was so important that we be together.
There was something about small children in a bank.
There was also something about a naval espionage scene. I was wandering around a giant boat with a flashlight, trying to get somewhere before the bomb went off. The bomb was located in a locked room, and I couldn't find the keys (which were located on my keyring) because someone had borrowed them.
I was crawling on the floor thinking about a new theory. I was going to write a paper about one syllable boys' names. I was going to use the example Margaret told me about her husband and hunting dogs who only have one syllable names. I also was going to write about nicknames and about a girl named Jazz whose real name was Jasmine.
I was listening to NPR. Click and Clack were crying to each other; they were getting sued for a parody gone wrong. As Clack sobbed, Click said "Let's run that Cartoon Network ad." Then my dead cat Amy jumped on the bed. I knew it was her by the tilt of her head. She laid on my chest and kneaded her feet on my lips.
Then I think she turned into poundcake. She had a New Jersey license plate that said "theft deterrent" and "Poundcake good, Coney Island bad."
Dad and I fought about something.
There was a picture of the famous Japanese prints, one of the samurai ones, screen-printed on concrete. I think it was in front of a graveyard. I was going there with my mom and my grandmother.
I got a big hug from a dog. It was a huge dog, like a German shepherd or something. And the dog really was hugging me. I am not just anthropomorphisizing the event.
On TV, Barb and I watched a semi slam into a parked car while the man was sitting in his parked car. They then showed a map of where the accident was, so Barb and I went there. Once we got there, we found out Caryn was hosting a murder-mystery party. There were a bunch of weird people there, like the woman who kept repeating "My husband's at an Avon conference in Bolivia." Another girl laid on a couch and kept chanting "Brian, come here." There was an African-American homeless man wearing an apron. Another girl said, "He was homeless, but they gave him an apron. I'm going there." We all were invited to the murder-mystery game, so we were taken to a rental house. There I went into the closet to hide. Some guys were escaping through the bathroom window. One of them turned to me and said, "There's no screen; it's okay."
I had a thing about death. I dreamed about my dead cat Amy. I patted her bottom and rubbed her torso. I kept chanting "please don't die."
It's been awhile since I wrote these notes, but it says that "the guy in the zero block came back when Grandfather died. Didn't know about the tumor."
I was in a restaurant with Matt, John, and some other guy. I made them all come over to our table to watch Matt's Flash thing (which really was a Bryce thing). They all oohed and aahed while I got ice cream. When I opened the freezer door, there were two faces inside watching me. I demanded, "what?", and they said, "nothing." I got some lime sherbet and enjoyed slamming the door in their faces.
I was reading a Choose Your Own Adventure-type story about 16mm projectors: "If you have one, go to page 16. If you have both a 16mm and 8mm projector, go to page 29. If you have nothing, continue to page 14."
Ken, Cynthia, and I were putting stolen year decals on Ken's van's license plate. At the same time, we were trying to hide from the K-state cops. We were going to put a picture of these two people on there too, but it wasn't coming off fully. I told Ken we can't put it on, but he insisted that we must.
I killed a silverfish on the wall.
I rearranged my apartment and thought briefly about putting the table in the kitchen, but decided it would be to difficult to walk around it. There were windows in the kitchen and living room. One window looked over a creek; the creek wandered down to a very rich person's backyard. Mom envied their bridge. She also wondered, "if you can afford any kind of fence, why would you pick green cast iron?" I saw her wading in the creek feeding the fish and I called her on her cell phone shortly afterwards asking if she had heard about this crash--
On the rich person's property, there was a huge RV loaded with twenty people attending a class. The class met as it traveled the country. As the RV turned down the winding road of the property, It tipped over. Somehow I saw everyone's faces as it overturned. One guy was a mix between Fred Astaire and the Man from Another Planet (Michael J. Anderson) from Twin Peaks. He had a freaky-shaped head.
I was making cherry amaretto ice cream at work. Someone told me I needed to put vodka in it to help with the coloring. I had red food coloring in there, but sometimes when it was stirred, blue streaks would appear. Another time a miscellaneous guy stirred it and it went dark brown. We looked for vodka in David and Brian's office, but only found Asian cooking oils (including Glaxco's mineral water oil). The guy said that "the boys" had probably put it in the display cases...or it was in Stephanie's "do not touch" pile? We went outside and David and Brian were drawing at a patio table. David drew a big monster face with people on people-movers (those flat escalator-type things that they have at Disneyland and O'Hare) carrying them into the monster's mouth. It was the third or fourth version of the same drawing that he had done.
I dreamt that there were huge crickets in my room. They were eight inches long in the thorax. It was icky.
Each class at the Center was responsible for having a booth at the Center's garage sale fundraiser. There were a lot of booths that were empty, so I was fluttering around trying to figure out who wasn't participating and what I should do about it, if anything.
I saw Katie's mom, but more amazing was the next visitor. I saw the Incredible Hulk with a Cookie Monster belt: I said something about how much I liked his belt and he just sort of grunted. I then tried to sell him things out of my booth, but I only had broken electronics to sell.
I then got in a huge fight with this guy who wanted to buy my Pokemon cards (I don't really have any, trust me) and all of my family photos. He wanted the pictures of rocks and lions sleeping from our vacations. I told him, "Get a f***ing subscription to National Geographic. Your kids will hate you anyway."
I then picked up dead butterflies (monarchs) from the ground.
It's another Beck dream--
Kathleen and I were watching television with Beck. We were talking about cable in the "early days" (translation: i was probably talking about Pinwheel). I remembered that Kathleen didn't have cable growing up, but I assumed Beck did. Well, he didn't and I made him cry when I asked him. I felt so incredibly guilty. Poor guy. So Kathleen, a sniffling Beck, and I went grocery shopping and we all felt better.