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.

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.

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.

I made vaguely cryptic notes this morning after waking up, but I’m still not completely clear on all the details.

I was living at my grandpa’s house with my mom and Mari, and there was something about “leaving the house for the first time when Nightline comes on.” I was rinsing dust off the brown pants I rarely wear when a person from high school, long forgotten until I saw her picture again in the midst of packing, showed up.

I also told people (in a dream) about nightmares I had been having about eye charts. There were loud dogs outside and another psycho man running around and I just murmured, “I knew I didn’t want to live on the southwest side of town.”

My mother decorated my basement for me to “surprise” me, thus completely ruining any plans I had for the basement. I went downstairs and she had carpeted the walls and floor in berber, then handpainted bees, robots, and some Sid & Marty Krofft-lookin’ characters. It was interesting, and somewhat okay, but still entirely wrong.

My “father” (not really my dad, but perhaps my TV dad or something) was psychic and he told me that Amy (my long-dead Siamese cat from childhood) was going to die during a performance of Cyndi Lauper’s “She-Bop.” He wouldn’t be with me; he’d be in Los Angeles. Also, three guys I knew (I don’t know which three guys) would go to jail shortly afterwards. Dad and I were watching a musical variety show from the ’80s and “She-Bop” came on. I started crying hysterically, clinging to my father, remembering that he was supposed to be in LA when my cat died, so she was therefore still alive. I still was inconsolable. It happened to be a twenty-minute long performance too. When it was over, my dad and I were no longer on a couch, but in a classroom. The three guys had sawn a yellow music-room-style chair in half. I watched to see if they’d go to jail for it, thus fulfilling two parts of my father’s prophecy. They didn’t get in trouble at all, so I had to assume my cat was still okay.

I dreamt that my grandfather had the most adorable pajamas with cows on them. (He’s a cattle rancher, so it’s very appropriate.) Instead of just being silly modern cows, they were realistic (much like a Remington or Russell painting) depictions of actual cow breeds. I pointed to his ankle and said, “I bet you never knew what a Jersey looked like before.” He smirked at my sarcastic remark.