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.

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).

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 buying large plastic swan-shaped boats, probably paddle boats, for “the pool.” Of course, I don’t have a pool, but everyone needs paddle boats.

Joel said, “I don’t want to be here,” as he turned to go to Wellington. (I think he really wanted Mulvane, but can’t be sure.)

Andrew & Cerise, the lovely British couple who’s vacating the living space I will soon occupy, are moving to England because their son is sick and they want to be near their family. I dreamt that Cerise was pregnant and the unborn son’s sickness was why they were leaving. When I got to the place, the stairs were glass and surrounded by glass walls.

I went to some gathering and an Asian woman asked if I wanted some advice. I said sure, and she started to sing April March’s “Stay Away from Robert Mitchum.”

I was having lunch in a small restaurant (kind of like Bel Ami, but brighter) with John and Cindy McCain. Someone was going to introduce me to John, but as I shook John’s hand, I told the introducer that we had already met. We had a pleasant lunch. Leaving the restaurant, I ran into Woods.

I moved into my new place and ripped off the wallpaper in the kitchen only to find orange and gold foil. (This is obviously related to the estate sale I went to a few days ago that made me dream in orange and red last night too.) Also, when I moved in, a little girl stood in the kitchen as I was looking at the odd things remaining in the refrigerator. She said, “I come with the house. I’m going to my room now.” I was not amused.

I also dreamt about speed traps on the expressway.

Now, a collection of dreams from previous nights:

11/15: My boss gave me a Sit ‘n’ Spin and I was, of course, deliriously happy.

I visited DRC in his Comotara home. A strange man outside wailed and wailed, so I took shelter inside. He had to go throw pots, and I did him a favor by going to KU and getting some clay for him.

I was either in a large arena or an airport and I ran into the mayor.

11/16: Kathleen and I were playing in my new house when we discovered that it had a whole additional level in the basement. We walked into one room and it was very much like Larry’s Piano Bar. There were nine circular booths, like the corner one in Angela’s where Linden, Jaime, Matt, and I had lunch last time Matt was in town. I heard Kathleen squeal, “Oh my God! You have to make them leave the dance floor.” We turned the corner and found several rooms with 1970s dark wood bunk beds. I reasoned that the previous owners had a Little League team spend the summer with them.

Al Gore was hawking Suzukis for Carbanc.

I took an elevator to New York after returning curtains to JC Penney’s.

The airlines would charge passengers who went to the bathroom within five minutes of takeoff an additional $2000.

11/17: Lael sent me an e-mail entitled “however; angle 2.”

11/18: I was running with a flashlight on my grandfather’s road, dodging between cars.