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 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 the kitchen when I suddenly remembered that I had a grey cat (that looked very much like Suzanne) to take care of, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had fed it. I knew that I had had two cans of cat food when I moved in and used one the first night. I called the cat and it came in typical cat-fashion, rubbing against the walls, chair legs, etc. I told the cat, “if you just made your presence known a little more often, maybe I wouldn’t forget to feed you.” I decided that I should feed the cat when I ate, and maybe then I wouldn’t forget. But that caused a problem since I don’t eat on a regular schedule all day.

I then started to panic over everything. ‘Miah called, asked what I doing, and I told him that I was having a panic attack. While I was trying to understand him on the phone (I couldn’t really make out too much of what he was saying as I was trying to feed the cat, which was a whole lot harder than it sounds), the water refused to shut off, I found old plates with chicken gravy, the cat food smelled horrid and nausated me, the cat ran away again, the floor swarmed with gnats from garbage that hadn’t been taken out, etc. Then ‘Miah told me that he quit his job. I asked why and he said, “Don’t know. Just did.” He was irritated with me because I kept asking him to repeat things, but I just couldn’t understand.

‘Miah, Dion and I were watching numbers (white serif, probably Times New Roman) swirling into a black hole. The sky was a shade somewhere between navy and lavender. Numbers included 0, 9, 4, 7, 2, and more. There were a lot of zeros, causing me to call them Spaghetti-Os.

Nelda was telling me that she was “shocked” when she learned where my house was. “Is that a good shock or a bad shock?” I asked, but she was too speechless to answer.

Joel was complaining about the E-mail I sent and about how, when his wife read it out loud to him, it seemed way too inappropriate. I didn’t know what I had possibly done wrong, as I had been on very good behavior. Joel was just amused.

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.”