1) I kept a bottle of brandy by the bed so I could just take a swig and go back to sleep easily. 2) I crawled through a old house and ended up cooking for Napoleon.
3) A twelve-year-old was getting married to a thirtysomething-year-old. He was sending her video letters. She was most concerned about his balding. The rest of us were just concerned.
4) Something involving a large display of a movie in a setting like a shop class.

Kathleen, Lael and I were eating in a pub when Officer D* walked in. We didn’t exactly want him to join us for some reason; I think Kathleen harbored a grudge or something. We were almost done eating and I didn’t want to sit there longer while he ordered something with his friends and we watched them eat just to be polite, perhaps intimidated because, well, they’re cops. So I hid in my napkin. He walked by and tossed a $100 bill on the table for us: my napkin disguise was not clever enough. Damn. But we ended up with an extra $100 bucks, which I pocketed and continued to eat my chips, er, fries.

We were then at a party in the afternoon. We had been split up into eight groups – I was in group eight – to go participate in a battle of the bands-type thing. I went outside and got into a 1930s-ish hot rod, gunmetal gray with black tape making an intriguing pattern on it. Inside was a band that looked like a combination between Interpol and Motorhead. Also sitting in the front seat was Heather H from high school. The seats were white and smooth leather, like Matt’s old car Darlene.

The lead singer/driver informed me that we had to do a Simon and Garfunkel song. Looking at Heather and thinking back at how often the two of us had been compared (we were both pale, smart, and somewhat outspoken — the same boys thought us pretty), I suggested “Bookends.” Then I asked why we had to do a Simon and Garfunkel song. The lead singer/driver suddenly had Art Garfunkel hair — he ran his fingers over (not through — that might loosen it too much) and said, “I do a mean Art Garfunkel.” I asked if anyone had a chicken costume to do Paul Simon. They had decided to do a different song, not “Bookends,” but I don’t remember what.

Dates unknown, but both happened after John Kerry announced Edwards was his running mate.

Dream #1: I was sitting at the foot of my mom’s bed in my childhood home as Mom was watching television. Edwards came in and gave me a big (platonic) hug. It was an excellent hug.

Dream #2 – weeks later: I was watching CNN and saw Edwards getting into a presidential-looking helicopter at a Camp David-like setting. He got trapped between the door of the helicopter, which was mechically trying to open, and the helicopter itself. So basically Edwards was getting hurt (though not bloodily) by being squeezed on live television. It was horrible.

Perhaps that one was just a reaction against the whole “Jacuzzi case” crap that Tucker Carlson is spewing.

I wander to the arcade in my bathrobe and nightgown. I had major surgery less than three weeks ago; let’s just say I had organs removed. Tonight is my first night without pain pills. Well, I haven’t had my narcotic pain pill in nine hours. That counts.

I play one game that is supposed to unlock the door to the arcade. I suppose that they set it up so that if you can’t pass it, you can’t get in because you have no business playing video games. I can’t win. It’s some luge simulation and I can’t even jump on the luge like I’m supposed to — aren’t I supposed to be already lying down on my back?

Speaking of lying down on my back, I had one of those episodes earlier. I woke up flat on the floor and crawled back into bed. It took me a minute to remember which bedroom I had chosen for my headquarters tonight. The lights in my room are going dim. My cat had hogged all the blankets when I had gotten back; I’m still nervous, unsure if Amy would try to knead where it’s sore with her paws, desperate to show love to the girl who doesn’t feel much anymore. I was also worried about Amy’s health (as well I should, since she really would 28 this year in human years, not cat years), as she seemed to be going a bit deaf in one ear.

Anyway, after losing the luge game, I tear off the LCD display and begin to throw it down. “I will destroy you!” The three fifteen-year-old boys are headed up to get in and manage to get the display away from me before I destroy property.

In the parking lot, a woman is trying to convince a man with myopia to rent her car from her. He needs to get to Florida.

Outside, in three different drive-in-looking areas, the arcade has set up coin-operated Dance Dance Revolution practice areas. Behind you is a giant green screen, but you can watch your image projected along with what you’re supposed to do on the side of the building, sort of an Eye Toy DDR. All three bays are in use.

I’m noticing it’s my high school reunion tonight. I call Mom. She’s driving in the pasture — actually, she’s wardriving in the pasture, circling at the top of the hill in Howard, trying to get a good signal. She’s checking her eBay.

“My God, you’re wired tonight. Can you calm down once in a while?”

“Well, I wasn’t really expecting this. I thought it was going to be in Kansas City.”

“Why would your high school reunion be in Kansas City if you didn’t go to high school in Kansas City?”

“That’s the way they are, Mom. Jeez. So they’re all going to meet over in a church by the old school.”

“Oh.” Mom’s distracted. In the mental-telepathy-connection I used to contact her, not by phone, I can see with her eyes, the pasture fence spinning as she tries to get a signal. Finally, she finds success. She’s pulled up a response from a college athletic director who has gotten modded down to -3. “Crap. He says the check’s in the mail. What can I do?”

“Demand a proof of delivery, or at least an estimated delivery date. I don’t know, Mom. People get modded down for lots of things.”

I’m walking around the DDR people, trying not to get hit. There are lots of familiar faces, but there’s no one I see with whom I want to spend any time talking. I then see Katie E. lying on the ground. “I know how it is. I just had parts removed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you pay for it? Oh, right, insurance. So if we had all stayed working when we left high school, we might all have health insurance.” She gets a dreamy look in her eyes and then shuts them.

Zach and Tom are nearby. Somehow it comes up that I’ve been in pain for a long time. Someone’s talking about how they can’t take aspirin without getting a buzz. I laugh, but not too deeply.

“You can take Lortab and Valium together and still function just fine at work. Personally, work only noticed a difference when I wasn’t on painkillers. That’s when I lost the ability to string a sentence together, started slurring my words, and could no longer function.”

“Listen to you babble,” my mother pipes up over the telepathic connection.

Their jaws drop. “And how do you think now?” Mom asks.

“Well, I wrote on Monday, but my heart wasn’t in it and it was a little hard. But I also had an assignment. I’m doing quite well, thank you very much.”

“So you’re driving to Kansas City tonight?”

“No, I thought I had to at one point, but I’m just going a couple of miles. A few people might follow me home.”

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me.”

Then I ran out of fun people to shock and awe, so I headed home. All the kids were playing this new MMORPG that was available on their cellphones and pornographic. It was certain to be a hit, but I could care less.

Matt was basically Squire, dressed in a big coat and knit hat, happily riding Greyhound buses nowhere in particular all his life.

Mom, ‘Miah, D and I broke into some guy’s house because Mom wanted to see what kind of artwork he had at home. He caught us and was actually very cool about us being there. I talked to three Egyptian guys while Mom and the homeowner worked something out. ‘Miah and D explored the backyard: it had a large concrete bridge and was very green, like a golf course.

Some dreams to catch you up on:

Early last week sometime:

A business partner (not co-worker) I’ve only talked to a few times was married to Meatwad from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. He would keep throwing himself out the window. She finally locked him in bed by embedding a padlock in his meat.

Sunday night’s dream was very tainted because I accidentally fell asleep when Saddam Hussein addressed his people at 2:30ish a.m. my time.

Wolf Blitzer of CNN was congratulating me on my first national broadcast, although I did “ramble a bit.” I pointed out that I was just a kid and he agreed. He was very nice and served a mentor figure; he was also going to introduce me to some BBC and NPR personnel. Then the dream shifted to the Academy Awards. The red carpet had been rolled out and the Clintons stepped out of a limo. Chelsea was wearing a black dress, Hillary wore a white pantsuit and dark sunglasses, and Bill wore a tuxedo. Bill had offered Chelsea as a spiritual leader or princess for the new Iraqi regime. The huge cameras became guns. On the steps of the mosque/Kodak Theatre, a Japanese girl of about sixteen was blindfolded and wrapped very tightly in a kimono. She was promptly killed by the cameras/guns. An American solder, on his stomach with his gun aimed at the doorway of the mosque/theatre, was right in front of a television broadcasting the same scene live. So the television was caught in an endless loop. Very tiring.

Monday night:

I almost stole two different Mini Coopers (one British racing green, one yellow).

I was living in a house right on the ocean. It was almost entirely glass, and I could see the water rising up the walls. Tidal waves would smash into the glass. A dead swan was pushed up against the house as was an orange octopus. Some girl came up to me and said, “I’m just looking for my dad’s coffin.” ‘Miah was there, and I introduced him to Zach and Tom.