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.

I was in a mall, going through sets of doors. There was an awful, terribly loud sound of starlings. I saw stupid gopher figurines and heard my mom say, “I could sell that.” There was also a golf towel that had horrible clip art of a foot that said “Barefoot Husband on the Prowl.”

I was sleeping in a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco.

The Center was hassling me about some preschool thing in an odd-shaped room. Julie was there, and she had a doppelganger who made her cry: I don’t know if the one in blue or the one in red was the “real” one.

I discovered new rooms in my basement (again), only this time it was blank unfinished basement, though loaded with jigsaw puzzles and toys. There was an awful lot of styrofoam too. I went to set the security system, but I couldn’t remember the last four digits of my phone number which, in the dream, was my code. So it went off and I knew the police were going to come and I’d have a false alarm on my “permanent record.” I called the security system guy who had checked everything. Instead of actually handling the situation, he just came by and picked me up, then we went for a drive.

Grandpa and I were looking at lights in the distance from my house, which was oddly in the country. We discussed whether the pinkish lights were from the factory or the turnpike.

Jacques Chirac, President of France, had pledged to help me move, but he wasn’t too thrilled when I asked him to help me move the box of “French stuff”: some Beck French import albums (vinyl even), the Serge Gainsbourg CDs, etc. “But I got rid of all the Balzac; I’m not asking you to carry that,” I whined, and he just irritatedly lifted the milk crate of French stuff and hefted it away. (In a previous dream from July, Marlon Brando helped move stereo equipment.)

I was house-sitting for my boss. I was very good and didn’t even feel tempted to go through her closets, pantry, or doors. She lived in a 1970s-style ranch house with a mild A-frame type living room with big windows. I saw Cyndi, harried and hurried, drive by in a burgandy Suburban.

After sitting in a living room with Zach and Tom, I found a black girl crying hysterically on a county road three miles outside of Beloit. I comforted her and stopped her from crying. Then I found myself in a barn with the Mountain Goat Rodeo Society meeting. I think there were a large gathering of chickens around as well. Someone mentioned chocolate-covered goldfish crackers, making me think of Ween’s “Chocolate and Cheese.” The idea of chocolate-covered-cheddar-cheese-fish-shaped nausated me — big shocker.

There was also something about a lime green 1978 Camaro, not that I really know what one looks like, but anyway. (Ed. note: I do now, only in the dream it didn’t have the candy apple red accents.)