In my dream last night, I accidentally ended up with Abe Vigoda‘s dead body in my house and he had been beheaded. I didn’t do it. I carried his head over to my scanner and started to scan in a side view of his head; I thought about using it at the end of a web page as a design element. Then I realized that perhaps photographs of beheaded celebrities, particularly when their remains were still within my home, would not be a good thing to post on the web. My mother came over, wearing a 1950s Donna Reed dress, and wanted to go shopping for socks. The phone rang, she answered it, and it was for her: “Who would call you? It’s not as if you’re on the phone all that often and I’m already here, so it couldn’t be me calling.” I attempted to explain that I don’t particularly like talking on the phone just for kicks since I have to do it all day long. She hopped on the counter and chatted away like Elizabeth Taylor in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, not “sounding just like Natalie Wood, I swear,” as she claimed on the phone. I thought about telling Mom my problem–that nasty beheading incident–but I didn’t. I was wearing a green skirt and a blazer, white tights that were bunched at the knees, and uncomfortable shoes, but we had to leave that instant for some reason. So we went to lunch in the “Riverside area.” I told Mom the story of when Kathleen and I spent the night there and, since both Curtis and Fillmore streets were likely to flood, we had to eat at this little cafe. All of the items on the menu were standard: hamburger, roast beef, etc.

I was spending the night in a house in Fancy Acres, as Jake would say. I was tempted to go around and take pictures of everyone as they slept.

I was being fitted for a beaded silk dress.

An unmarried Hispanic couple came into my office. The female had taken classes before, but the male had never enrolled. He was incredibly frustrating: he kept changing how he spelled his last name. He took two Sprites from my office and opened them both for himself. I could not find the official membership form and he mocked me. To get away from him, I went to some high-dollar Neiman Marcus-type store that was located in the gallery. A woman I faintly recognized as “Board material” was selling diamond rings. She waved to me and I smiled. I found my mom somewhere and she gave me a pastel pink sweater to wear over what I was wearing: a long blue shirt, a pair of paints, and a skirt. I was heavily layered. I left then and ran into Joan Rivers and a gaggle of her types. They complimented me on my unique outfit and I became this instant fake social butterfly. I complimented Joan on her solid gold botanical-themed tiara that looked like it was on upside down. She hugged me and I said, “You’re so kind to me.” She then said she’d be talking to the President of the Board to see if we could “speed things up.” I don’t really know what things she was talking about, but I knew it was going to be the best for me.

I went back into my office and it was way too bright. Howard came into my office and, in an attempt to fake eye contact, I kept my eyes shut and looked up at him. I explained that I didn’t have to see to work. He grabbed a pair of scissors and pretended to cut a massive potholder I had weaved in sixth grade. I saw him through squinted eyes and stopped him, knowing that he was just testing me. The potholder was navy and orange, with a quasi-floral pattern tying the two colors together. The odd part was the way it seemed to grow: the potholder eventually became a full tablecloth size and I told Howard it was for “big dishes” in a little kid’s voice.

I dreamt that Stephanie brought the rest of her key lime pie to work for a special snacktime treat.

Grandpa wanted me to learn how to shoot a gun in case I was ever attacked. I was in the old house, on the landing between the two flights of stairs, shooting out the front door. No one was there. I used up all the ammo, then I went downstairs. Mom was cleaning out the room that was my playroom when I was a kid, later her craft room, and later my bedroom. She had a huge decorator’s basket and she took my two guns away, hiding them under the scraggly peacock feathers. There weren’t nearly enough to hide the guns, but Mom seemed satisfied.

I had gone to Sam’s and bought a huge box of candy (probably a bleed-through from that Dexter’s Lab commercial about winning a year’s supply of Airheads candy). I was brushing my teeth, then I was going to eat candy and fall asleep. My mom was in my living room, talking to me as I took my candy into the bathroom with me. She told me that eating candy after brushing my teeth was the stupidest thing she had heard in a while.

Nelda wanted me to set up something on the website where people could request what they really want in life. She thought it would be interesting, but Howard didn’t want it to be published.

I had to find a picture of Marilyn Monroe in a particular movie (called Up in Our Town or something) for the newsletter. When I went to find Jake to ask for the DVD cover, he was on the phone with Joel E. There were a bunch of dirty dishes in the sink, including two empty tuna cans. I went to wash them, but there was a dish that was for Joel that had a cup of sour cream and a cup of cheddar cheese mixed in it with a light dusting of potato soup mix on top.

I was in the kitchen of the old house, reading the newspaper. Mom and Dad came in: they had gone on vacation. Mom sarcastically said, “we left the lights on in the garden just you like.” She knew I normally hated that because the lights would shine in my bedroom and I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I told her that I had a blindfold now and it didn’t matter. She seemed a bit put off that I wasn’t irritated. I really was quite apathetic.

I was a banker (hah!) and I was tabulating the different rates I could invest $2000 (another hah!) at: a savings account would earn me 1.4%, a three month CD would earn 3.6%, etc.

I did not sleep well at all last night. I woke up about every two hours right on the nose.

My dream about the preschool program is obviously heavily influenced by the Scooby Doo Movies episode with Jerry Reed that was on Cartoon Network. So at the program, we couldn’t start because someone stole Jerry Reed’s xylophone. There were three families that wanted to sign up for Thursday afternoon preschool, and one has waiting to have a baby until they had enough money–even though the lady was already pregnant. I guess she just wouldn’t go into labor until they had more money. Mom came up to me and said, “I’m so bombed.” She had drank too much (my mom doesn’t drink often, so this is not typical, as it may be for others). As I was getting dressed for the program, I heard about reports of a flood in Hutchinson, and I thought to myself, “We could have died. We were just there.”

Randy, David, Matt, Mom, Dad, and I all moved to Japan. Mom and Dad bought a bright red 1930s car (a Pierce Arrow?) with a matching trailer. I spotted Engrish: a sign from the “Potato Meatball” Restaurant advertised “Meat Poptein,” not protein. I kept wanting to go to a bookstore, but we never found one. David worked at Benetton and I visited him in the mall where he worked. It wasn’t really a mall, but more like the basement of a fancy hotel. “Man, I used to not be able to afford this stuff, but now, it’s Japan . . . I used to think I’d get here and just totally immerse myself in art.” I told him that I thought I’d get to Japan and just watch TV all the time. The American district was signified by the picture of Queen Victoria on the Bombay Sapphire gin label.

I was at a modified zoo full of “therapy animals,” domesticated versions of wild animals that people could pet, bathe, feed, etc. They had horses with long hair (basically they looked like their manes had taken over their bodies), Siamese cats, and tigers. I massaged cold water into a polar bear’s fur.

Mom was with The Rock for some reason, and he was in an industrial looking kitchen, swinging a large, heavy object over his head.

I was on a bus trip. I sat near the back of the bus (it was a short school bus) as we drove on the highway. I’ve now forgotten most of the dream.

I had a turtle named O’Shea Jackson (Ice Cube‘s real name).

Again, I’m writing from notes scribbled in the middle of the night. This time, instead of filling up the back of a receipt, I nearly filled up a spiral notebook page.

Mom and I were going to my old high school. In the parking lot, there was an ice skater darting between cars. Mom said, “She’s talented; you should ask her–” She skated in front of our car and nearly killed all of us. We saw a parked cop car. Mom said, “I hate to ask an off-duty policeman,” but he left before she could complain. We headed towards the building. The power had gone out and as we walked in, it came back on. The library was locked, so, since we couldn’t get in there, we walked around the commons area. We kept bumping into people I knew from then. No one else’s mom was there. Zach said, “Hey, Jen,” and Mom whispered, “Follow through,” code for continue the conversation with him. I told her, “Ease,” meaning for her to stop nagging. Most people were eating. I found Amber’s credit card (Amber was a girl I went to high school with, but the Amber whose credit card I found is really the mother of one of our preschool students) and said I would return it to her, as I would see her later. I picked up two keychains. Then we walked outside. Mom said, “I forgot I had to buy you strawberries.” I told her that “I would have asked for them if I really wanted them.” Then she bought me two prescriptions, four CDs, and lunch. In the parking lot now were two white Corvettes and Howard’s car. I woke up to one of the Scooby Doo Mysteries, sleeping as always with Cartoon Network on, as they were talking about racecars.

I dreamt Grandpa had two new calves, both bulls, one had the beginnings of horns on his snout. I could the bone beginning to form under the skin like new teeth. The calf was trying to bite me. Grandpa told me that he had traded that “yappy dog” (perhaps a bleedthrough from the Scooby Doo meets Courage the Cowardly Dog commercial on Cartoon Network), one of the calves, and his “son” on a treadmill for cash. The “son,” a transient Grandpa had picked up somewhere for odd ranching jobs, said, “Oh, you’ve found another son?”