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  • At the water park there was a huge line for the biggest slide and I willed it to go away and it did. It still took a long time to climb to the top, and when I got there it was dark out. I walked away, preoccupied.

  • The whole busload of them were going to Dairy Queen but I missed it, they left without me. I was pissed. When they got back, Zach came running to find me, "Where were you?" He hadn't eaten anything, out of solidarity. I said we were going back, I'd drive. The people we were walking past heard us and asked if they could grab a ride, I said yes, Zach couldn't stop laughing.

  • tying a straw in a knot for the cat

  • In the historic house where whatshisname was born, some civil war guy, there were bins for food and book donations in the massive white marble lobby.

  • The bushy-browed, slightly scary guy at the other table in the cafe leaned toward us and asked if we were using our computer. Pete said no and tried to had it to him but it was not detachable from the table. We said it was fine for him to come sit at our table and work, but he declined - it was Abby who needed it, and she was too shy to sit with strangers.

  • In the tunnels the packed-dirt walkways on the edges were crumbling and we were moving slow. I asked Pete who that was, what he was singing. He told me everything - who wrote it, who recorded it first, all the other people who recorded it over the years, and who sang the only version I would have heard.

    A vision into the wall of the cave, where a girl was tunneling.

  • When I got to the end of the driveway I saw a couple coming home from church with their four kids, all girls with wonderful curly hair. They were all dressed in black. Not dressed up, just black tshirts and jeans. I stopped the car and got out to talk to the mother. She tried to convert me almost immediately, and I tried to convert her.

  • The man who ran away from the haywagon coming down the hill got away just fine.

  • As Scully, I was of course very brave. A man's face was burned on all one side, red and horrible. I took it from him, asked to receive his disfiguration. It was a horrible dizzy rush when it happened. I did it for the wrong reasons. I was angry at God. I went where I was not supposed to go, where no one could go. I found Buddha. I walked toward his impossible light and dared me to let me into his kingdom and he would not.
  • I had a dream that I drove to Philadelphia to see a band called The Sound of Urchin. We (and I can't remember who I was with) were like seven hours late for the show, and as we got there TSOU was just coming off the the stage.

    I asked them if they would play a couple of my favorites, and the lead singer got all pissed off. Then he called the band back onto the stage, and said "Fine to hell with it, We'll play the songs again, cause you couldn't be on time."

    I felt like I was Private Pyle from Full Metal Jacket in the scene where has has to eat his donut while rest of the platoon does his punishment for him.

    Jeanne and I were riding in a monstrous SUV down into some canyon - possibly the Grand one - on steep skinny trails which only through the magic of dream work accomodated the beast. Sometimes the driver was ailie, no shit, and sometimes it was our housemate Heather telling us about how scared she used to be to wander at night. She used to envision a path and picture someone further down it, calling her name.

    The canyon itself was more of a domestic labyrinth. It was starting to flood. All we had to eat was chocolate pudding.
    I had a conversation with Thad on a cell phone whileon the drive; he was imploring me to come visit him in Seattle.
    I believe pukesick appeared in an earlier dream, but I can't remember it now.
    During the night: My next-door neighbor was Mao Tse Tung. I went to his house, and knocked on his door. I wanted an interview. He told me to come back in ten minutes.

    When I came back, we started the interview. My dad was there. We discussed Napster; the interview quickly degenerated into a political argument (it was my dad's fault). Then something bad (tsunami?) happened and I woke up.
  • There were a bunch of people over at my house to watch a new Voltron series. One was Ms. Medusa the pseudo-Goth from YCM, sitting on one couch; another was Patti from my parish. My friend John was there, and so was my little brother. The living room had been rearranged; the TV was against the chimney and we all had our backs to the windows as we waited for the show to come on. My dad peeked in from the hall, carrying a bowl of Cheetos, as it began. "Oh," he remarked worriedly, "That's the most dangerous episode." We laughed, but it did look like it; waves of lava were lapping up the sides of a stone spire in a huge cavern, dissolving the rock. Atop the spire was a small building, supposedly a castle, but very small.

    I went in, driving a toy Batmobile: it moved, half of its own accord, as I gripped the back. Gouts of lava spewed from a sewer pipe underground, and I whooshed into the opening between spurts (I think my brain got this from Brian Jacques' Pearls of Lutra--the Ruddaring isle). I dodged around pillars in a dark blue chamber, evading vague alien shapes, as I attempted to get into a forbidding castle sitting atop glowing green ooze.

    Patti was interested in going out with me. My feelings were mixed; I didn't know what to tell her.

    There was a convention of action figures at the house I went to for day care when I was little. Crowds of people wearing G.I. Joe uniforms wandered around huge piles of plastic toys. I looked at an old set of Voltron lions and crept around with John, carrying a Super Soaker. I thought this would be a great thing to do in college, to play games of pretend like we were kids again. I would start a club!

  • Standing in front of an escalator, on white bathroom tiles, in a mall. I was defending Patti from an approaching gangster in a white tuxedo. He shot at me but missed. I returned fire with a tiny white pistol that was supposedly semiautomatic, but the trigger was broken--I had to manually pull the trigger forward after each shot. Nonetheless I managed to fatally wound the attacker, staining his white tux with red. He collapsed, his face going pale, but soon got up, zombielike. His arms were covered with a watery substance that I knew was powerful acid. I shouted for everyone to stand back, but someone--maybe Patti--ran forward out of compassion and touched the deadly liquid.
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