Priya’s grandmother was a hell-raising nun in an Apple IIe computer game called “Summer of Love.”

I was at some private school, and they had a career center that went by the intials WOIJC. To get there, I had to walk by the dorms (I lived in a tent near the dorms) and go through about a block of woodlands, then go up about ten flights of stairs straight up. I then entered the WOIJC hall on the top floor, so I essentially started at the top of the employment ladder (”Entertainer/Professional Athlete”). To go anywhere, I had to go down. There were no stairs, and I had to jump down to large inflatable tubes. I eventually fell all the way to the ground, which was a bookstore. There was a nonfiction writer attempting to sign books, but no one was interested. I had read one of his earlier books and thought about buying his new one, but decided that I couldn’t afford it. Jerry Springer was wandering around; someone made fun of him and I said, “Stop it. That’s my boss you’re talking about.”

I saw a black velvet painting of Richard Roundtree as Shaft in a trailer home. Then he and Pam Grier burst in, kicking down the door. I cowered in the corner, saying “I watch you every day.”

I can’t remember any dreams from last night or my nap. I only remember “had some dream about Erika,” but that’s not surprising since we hung out together last night.

Instead, here’s a dream Phillip had about me. This is probably only amusing to Center people, but so are about half my dreams.

I was screaming in my office, telling Phillip that we needed to offer classes that would fill. So I decided that we would teach Chinese cooking classes in studios 2, 3, and 6. “Who’s going to clean up the studios after the class?” Phillip asked me, and I said that I couldn’t worry about that. We’d just do it. So poor Phillip worried about all his stuff in Studio 6 getting trashed because I wanted to offer Chinese cooking classes.

Since I’m almost feeling better again (except for a nagging sore throat which is unrelated to being sick, but probably related to the treatment), I think that last night made up for a lot of lost time dreaming. I had an incredibly busy dreaming night last night in my eleven hours of sleep. (I’d still be sleeping if I didn’t have to go to work today.)

Let the long, complicated dreams begin! These are in two sections: the first is from 11:30 pm - 5:30 am (when I woke up and wrote them down) and part two is 5:30 am - 10:30 am.

—part one—

I was in a zoo with Johnny Depp and a Top Gun-era Tom Cruise. They didn’t really know I was there, but I was. I thought it was very weird that Tom Cruise was there, but I hoped he would play his part successfully. They were both wearing lemon yellow jumpsuits; Johnny looked very nice in his, and I thought to myself “Awww, I got Johnny to wear yellow.” I don’t know why I was so touched by it, but I was. We were walking towards a barn, and we paused for a journalist and photographer to cross our path. We got to the barn, but more importantly, we got to the downed air conditioning duct that was lying on the ground outside. We were supposed to kill a man there, but someone had beat us to it. The guy was dismembered, “torn limb from limb like a dog does to a Ken doll.” Every joint was broken or snapped apart. The journalist came back and opened the air conditioning duct with a laser pen, and we actually saw the remains of the body then. We moved on to the fish hatchery, near the front of the zoo. We went in and opened a car trunk to do something. When we opened it, the smell was horrid and bugs swarmed around us, biting any exposed flesh. We turned to go, but a guy with a gun stopped us. He said he was holding us up because someone held him up. He didn’t really want to harm us, but he felt we were all trapped there together. He wouldn’t let us leave the door without him, and for someone reason, we had to call someone’s attention to where we were in order to leave. We went to the custodian’s cart and pressed the red “help” button. We were patched through to the front offices of the zoo. We went to speak, but a mechanical Indian voice spoke for us automatically as a function of the help button.”I am seeking to find my way out of the park,” said the voice, sounding exactly like Apu from The Simpsons. The racist help desk clerk said, “You’re lost. Consult the map.” It was of no help since we were presumed to be Indian. I punched in code 555, not knowing what would happen. I just said, “I think the fish hatchery is on fire or something.” We left, running out the back door, and we saw fire trucks coming from outside the zoo. We got into a late 1970s model Oldsmobile (me in the back, with the gunman) and waited for the fire trucks.

At an all-girl elementary school, a statute of Hunter S. Thompson greeted students at the entrance. A fourth grader there killed Hunter S. Thompson by shooting Jello pudding mix directly into his veins, thus turning his blood into pudding until it no longer could be pumped through his circulatory system. (Another guy was killed by his own urine, but we couldn’t figure out how that happened. Johnny Depp seemed to think that something else was injected into his liver.) “Wow,” I thought, possibly from the backseat of the car, “Some girl’s going to be really upset that Hunter S. Thompson is dead.” We (no longer Johnny Depp and Tom Cruise, but two females) debated about which of two obese girls would be the one who would turn into a hysterical mess when Hunter S. Thompson’s murder was announced. The two females decided it would be one girl, but I chose the other, known simply as “Fat Doris” after years of teasing. The other girl, I commented, “just wants little girl piano fingers,” meaning, I think, that she would only be upset if someone like Andrew Lloyd Webber was murdered. After someone in the school hallway laughed and twiddled their fingers in delight of my analysis (this was just a single image; I was never in the school, but I saw this anyway), we all looked on the front lawn as Fat Doris attempted to run and hug the statue. There were two girls trying to put Fat Doris in handcuffs. I then looked at the two females who had said that it would be the “little girl piano fingers” obese girl that would be upset, and the two females shrank down to three feet tall and shared one wheelchair: “We were going to win web awards, but I think we’re of a pretty small stature,” they said in unison just like the twin Japanese girls from Mothra.

Some female friends and I were friends with Jennifer Lopez. J-Lo had two baby girls and four bathrooms; she had to use three of the bathrooms to get ready to go out. She was dating Johnny Knoxville, and I had fun making up headlines for the tabloids: “J-Lo leaves one jackass for another ‘Jackass,’” referring to P. Diddy, of course. J-Lo had Melanie Griffith-brand underwear. We kept discussing going to a diner an hour north of J-Lo’s house. We finally got there (after J-Lo took forever getting ready) and found an abandoned bowling alley/lounge. Our dinner was catered, and I helped bring in broccoli and something else. I accidentally sat the broccoli in whipped cream instead of the ranch dressing. The chef joked, “Most of what we’re eating could be stored in the desk drawer of the average dieter.”

I was on a photo shoot with Matt’s mom (Ellen) and sister (Barb). I was wearing a pink boa, Mardi Gras beads, a silver wig, and other fru-fru things. There was a buffet at the shoot and I got a soft sugar cookie with one-inch-high frosting, chocolate chips, and cookie dough nuggets: as I selected one, I said, “Normally I’m not hungry, but I just can’t resist” like I was in some stupid commercial. Back at the table, Barb was about ready to eat all the cheese dip. I said, “I didn’t see the cheese fries or else I wouldn’t have gotten the cheese dip too.”

The post office had 3-D (or holographic) stamps that morphed from three flying falcons to a fencepost and back again. I wondered if they were self-incriminating, but I have no idea what I meant by that.

—part two—

Matt and I went shopping for a hot tub for my deck. I really just wanted one to use my inner tube in with jets that would make me spin in circles. We went to a store with lots of different types of chairs, and I started to look at hammocks. Matt told the salesman, “We bought replacement seats for the Suburban here, so we know our way around. Thanks anyway.”

I went to my grandparents to see how the “exhibit change” was going. I guess they had some sort of amateur zoo. I peeked under one tarp and saw a large rectangular trampoline. There was a raccoon staring at me from a cage slightly beyond the trampoline and I thought about how cute raccoons jumping on a trampoline would be. I peeked under a different tarp, and it was a circular trampoline. I figured that they got rid of the black bear they had. As a pet, they had a bobcat they called “Wildcat.” Grandpa told me that they would be happy to keep my hot tub or hammock there if I wanted to. Grandpa walked into the house, drinking straight from a bottle of Wild Turkey. Grandma (who died in August) walked by, drinking an bottle of something else. Then Dad walked by, and he was drinking Southern Comfort straight. I was thirsty, so I followed them into the house to get a Diet Coke. They only had alcohol or A&W Diet Sweet Ale. I decided to pass.

I was at a roller rink, and since I can’t roller skate, I went over to the DJ booth and went through their CDs. They had a whole bunch of Japanese import Cartoon Network CDs on sale for $9.99. I couldn’t really tell what was on any of them since they had no pictures except for the Cartoon Network logo, except for one with Hello Kitty and one called “Powerpuff Girls Radio Hits.” All of the covers were hot pink with light pink Japanese characters.

I went to the doctor, and they were going to weigh me since one of the medicines they put me on usually made people gain a lot of weight. I said that that probably wouldn’t be a problem since I don’t get hungry or eat much anymore. I got on the scales and the nurse just kept saying, “This is impossible” and refusing to weigh me.

I was housesitting for someone, and I took the two days’ worth of mail downstairs to sort. I had turned off all the lights because I didn’t want anyone to know I was there and invite themselves over. While sorting the mail (there was quite a few people that lived there), I heard noises. I went upstairs, sneaking, trying not to be noticed, and Jake was throwing a party on one of the decks. It was a subdued party, mostly just people sitting around and talking. I opened the door and stuck my head out and told Jake “hi” so that he knew I knew they were there. Then I went back inside and hid in the back bathroom for no reason.

I was sitting on a young child’s bed, and one end flew up because I was so heavy and it was so weak. Someone was lying in the bed and she said the bed was 25 years old, but very comfortable. Then she offered me a rocking chair for my room. I told that I’d be interested in looking at it, so we went to another room. Everything was fairly peach-colored, and the rocker was actually inflatable. I didn’t want it. Then some guy ran by wearing a towel and hopped into the shower. I was suddenly only wearing a towel and getting ready to take a shower in other bathroom (there were two bathrooms side-by-side) when I heard him say that there was no more hot water. The girl freaked out because she knew her parents would kill her: no only would they be upset that there was no more hot water, but that she had guests over. I told her I could take my shower in lukewarm water and I wouldn’t mind.

I woke up with this sentence in my head: “I’m going to paint my car eggshell. Wait, that’s a lie and I never dreamed that.”

I was on the roof of an industrial/office building. A short, cast iron fence separated me from Dexter (of Dexter’s Laboratory, which was probably on my TV while I was dreaming: I sleep with Cartoon Network on), and Dee Dee was sitting right across from me. Dexter had on a knight’s armor, and Dee Dee was wearing a bunch of pillows. I don’t know what I had for protection, but I did need some: baseballs were being hurled at us. Dee Dee never got hit by any of them, but Dexter and I came awfully close to getting knocked unconscious from them. I watched one of the balls bounce over my head and another go asunder through space and land near the tires on my car, thankfully doing no damage. So basically I was stuck in that DOS game called Gorilla that’s on the gallery computer; each player takes turn launching things at his/her opponent, and it supposedly helps you learn physics or something. I could be making that last part up, but hypothetically you should be able to learn something about trajectory from it.

I was in someone’s basement, and I went into a secret room with no roof. Sunlight streamed down, and there was a ladder leading up. There were a bunch of paint cans, pesticides, and other miscellaneous stuff cluttering the way. Something black was hanging down like moss, but not as drippy. I wasn’t really grossed out by it, but I did yell at my mom, “Sorry, Mom. I know you hate this room.” Then I went to the ratty couch from the late 1970s and curled up with a knit blanket that reminded me of fuzzy sweaters. It was mostly pine-green, but also speckled with bright colors. There were a bunch of board games on a coffee table nearby, including Mom’s and my favorite–Bargain Hunter. Mom wasn’t “there,” I don’t think, but I still talked to her.

I saw a set of “Four Seasons Planters”: a jack-o-lantern, a snowman, a floral scene, and something else hanging on a porch.

I had to run a store in a mostly abandoned mall. Dad and I were the last ones there, so I went around with the keys to lock up. I found a folding wooden door that led downstairs that didn’t looked like it ever had been locked. When I put the key in the lock, it came out the other side of the door, but still fit through. It wouldn’t lock though. I checked both bathrooms to make sure there were no people left, and I found two fake blonde wigs.

I think this was in the same mall. There were about four homes in the mall: they had remodeled them into spacious rooms with high ceilings, etc. I was in one of them and I spotted a horrible light fixture. I commented to someone that even if I had enough money to fix up a fourth of the mall into a private residence, I’d still want to live somewhere else.

I was in the smallest Target in the world with Mari. They only had candy, toys (water guns primarily, and some Play-Doh), and gardening supplies. Mari got a florescent green plastic megaphone and screamed at a family, “We’ve got your daughter!” Then we had to run for it; we ran through through an emergency exit (and the alarm DID sound). After that door were public restrooms, and I thought that we could just loiter there until the situation blew over. Instead, we ran all the way outside to the car in the rain. I immediately got into the backseat. There was a fight over who got shotgun that held us up.

Last night, I had the usual odd dreams. I dreamt that I was making a stop-motion animation movie exclusively using Fisher-Price Little People from my childhood. (Back in the day, I used to pretend the blond girl in braids was me, the boy was my friend Lance from preschool–or he was just left on the floor, then Dad and Mom, and the dog was a substitute for my cat.) I remembered all the accessories I had for them, particularly the yellow BBQ grill. Unfortunately, I only have a few pieces of them left. I really want the 1973 Fisher Price Village set that I used to have. I had to cruise eBay for pictures.

I also dreamt that I walked from work to downtown (approximately ten miles). Once I was downtown, I tried to catch the subway (green line) back to work, but it only circled around the downtown area. I kept asking if it would go to places near work, but no such luck. Everyone stared at me and thought that I was incredibly stupid and/or insane. I managed to get to my boss’s house, which was strangely only a few blocks from downtown, and he drove me to work. (I wish I knew why I had all these mass transit/subway dreams. It’s not like I’ve ridden a subway since December, and it’s not like I live in a city with a subway.)

I had a long dream about the student-faculty art show coming up, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten a large portion of it. I was helping David and Brian put stuff in the cases, and there was quite a bit of dreaming activity concerning the jewelry cases. Mom put in an enameled copper bracelet, and I put it in the bottom of a jewelry box to prevent it from falling over. There was something about a Christmas ornament that I can’t remember anymore. (I didn’t write full descriptions, and I didn’t write a full summary early this morning as I normally do. I’m a bad girl.) The reception was more like a Christmas party with everyone in warm clothes, rosy cheeks, and holding hot chocolate or apple cider. There was a lot of singing in unison, and it smacked a bit too much of a Folger’s Christmas commercial. Then it was my turn to pick the music, and I decided to focus my selections on rap feuds. I played some Ice Cube, then an artist Ice Cube was definitely against, then someone who hated Tupac (2pac) Shakur, and then I played Tupac. To show his gratitude of receiving equal time despite his death, he reached out from under the couch I was sitting on and shook my hand. I was moved, and Tupac was grateful. We shared a moment.