I noticed a sad pattern in my dreams. I have a dream involving the television show, Full House, in a dramatic effect once a week. I've figured it out. The Olsen Twins are somehow connected to communism!

We were living in a commune. During daytime hours, our house would turn into a beach house. There was also something about one of those crane machine games involving stuffed animals. I kept winning animals but they wouldn't budge. So I got the crane to collect all this money on the bottom and it finally pushed it out. We were in serious trouble. I was almost arrested.

I went to my swimming pool but it was for "elite" citizens only, and because I upheld some comradian system of sharing benefits, the woman laying out felt it necessary to trip all over my poltical views. I was forced to leave and return to the commune.

Then it was time for bed, so I go to my bedroom which is right next to laundry room. The bedrooms have nothing in them but beds. I lay down on mine and look around. There are doors in each room that connect to other rooms. There is no hallway in this house. You have to go through the rooms to get to your room. My room was connected to the laundry room, and someone else's bathroom.

There was a huge get-up with Michelle (you know, on Full House) and her new bed. She was having that post-traumatic crib loss thing going on, so I explained to her how simple it was to sleep in a bed (this is not like me at all) and showed her that her room was connected to Joey and her dad's room. I then offered to sleep with her until she fell asleep. But the instant I closed my eyes, I opened them up and there was sunlight in the room (even if there was no windows?) Michelle was excited about her new bed now, and I was becoming jealous about her room. It was nice and quiet in here, not like my room right next to the laundry room. Dammit. I had to steal her room.

The elite woman from the pool came to our house and yelled at me some more. Supposedly, because of me, her husband had impregnated her in the pool. I asked her who her husband was, and she said, "James K. Polk." I replied, "Manifest Destiny?" She smiled and we had a sudden bond. I ended up marching around the house screaming something like:

"MORE POLK! LESS SPANISH FOLK!"