Zach, Tom, and Jon were cleaning out their lockers. I immediately perked up and said, “You’re back.” They then sat in auditorium seats. I tapped Jon on the back and said, “I need to talk to you.”

I also dreamt that Meegan was having an affair with Cole. Kathleen and I went over to Meegan’s house and a sleepy Cole answered the door. We talked about the “three moods of Cole (and the two he didn’t show).”

There was something involving midgets. I swear it.

Caryn told me I had to teach the preschoolers music. So I decided to start off with something with N’sync. Then, after seeing how many preschoolers would sing along, we’d move into Radiohead’s Kid A. At the end, I had a full hour of things to go over.

Barb called and said, “I can hear your Patsy Cline in the background.” I rearranged my kitchen a la the Sims by simply moving my counter between the stove and refrigerator.

Kat S (not D) and her blond friend (who looked a lot like Julie, Jeremy K’s girlfriend and Katie E’s cousin, only much more plastic) lived across the parking lot from me. I went over there to invite them over, but had second thoughts. The blond girl was sitting on the doorstep talking on a cordless phone about leaving here for California where she wanted to work as a receptionist for a plastic surgeon’s office. I then had to go to work, but got lost along the way.

I was at Target, then I left, walking “home.” These two guys started following me. I stopped at the next house, where there was a policeman sitting in the driveway. I told him what was going on. He chided me for walking by myself. He called Linden and had him walk with me so I wouldn’t get raped.

I filled up my truck (?) and asked for help from David C. to put water in it.

I was in a hospital, talking with Grainger about internet marketing. His email address was knowlege@_____.net. I told him it was a bad idea to have a misspelling in his email address.

Then I was in a class. The guy next to me pointed out a typo in an internet ad. Then he started talking about Nazis on the internet. I say, “yeah, can you imagine what kind of a complex they’d get if they spelled it NATZIES?” No one laughed. Mom went outside.

Then Mom was in a hospital bed. We talked a lot about music. I went to the closet and made her a bowl of lentil soup. I saw a guitar and thought about picking it up, but I knew I couldn’t play. The music stand belonged to Blake. I took mom her soup and she only ate two bites. I went back to the closet to put Saran Wrap on it. I started to tear up because I knew she was dying, but I wanted to be strong for her. Mom started singing in a voice at least four octaves lower than lower then normal: it was a very low, very mournful song that made me burst into tears.

I was watering the trees and stuff around the patio staircase at the Summitlawn house when I saw movement. It was my dead (put to sleep on the friday before spring break in march 1995) siamese cat Amy. Amy was alive, but in her old, thin state right before we had to put her to sleep. I grabbed her and wrapped my arms around her. I took her inside to Mom, who was lying in bed and somewhat ill. I gave her Amy. Mom initially refused, so I laid Amy down on the bed. “She’s just going to die. It hurts too much to touch her.”