tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72517372818664408402024-02-20T22:12:11.696-05:00Dreams of a Crazy PersonNar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-13943634122647454872011-07-25T18:41:00.002-04:002011-07-25T18:44:45.161-04:00Riverfront Kickout w/ Cats7/25/11<br /><br />My parents kicked me out of their house.<br /><br />So I went looking for an apartment. But guess what? They're all shit. All of them.<br />Then someone tells me about this house that some dude is looking for someone to live in. I check it out, and it's really nice, but it's not winterized. So I could only live there for a couple months.<br /><br />When I try to leave the house there are tons of cats that I can't let out. Of course some do escape.<br /><br />(The dream was just super ultra frustrating. And it started my day off shitty.)<br /><br />(Also, there was way more to this dream, involving rivers and Kristen from Augusta and kitchens and hot tubs and college students, but I don't feel like writing it all down.)<br /><br />(Also, fuck you.)Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-26957085401553476572011-06-09T12:13:00.004-04:002011-06-09T12:26:45.172-04:00Arkansas license plate6/9/11<br /><br />I'm road-tripping with my parents.<br /><br />At first I'm driving through Ohio and kind of just going because I assume just going will get me to where we want to go.<br /><br />All of a sudden I need to know where we are because the road has turned from highway into town road. And the car in front of us has an Arkansas license plate.<br /><br />Turns out we are in Arkansas. And I hate Arkansas.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.ahajokes.com/cartoon/arkansas.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 450px; height: 338px;" src="http://www.ahajokes.com/cartoon/arkansas.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I ask my dad, who is in the back seat, where we went wrong and how to fix it.<br /><br />He tells me to take a right up ahead onto some "highway". And I follow him, because he's got the tiny atlas.<br /><br />This highway ends up being a dead-end on some peninsula. We decide to stay at the hotel there to figure out how to get out of Arkansas and back on track.<br /><br />My dad just ends up pissing me off because he cannot read the maps. I take them from him and devise my own plan to get out of this state and on to the next one. Somehow this involves going through Tennessee.<br /><br />With my hatred for Arkansas I end up pissing off a lot of locals. Especially two men who are helping us with our stay at the hotel.Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-38404816511128305842011-06-08T10:29:00.003-04:002011-06-08T10:36:14.535-04:00Living Bones 'n' Airports6/8/11<br /><br />Dream one:<br /><br />I felt the urge to donate my bones. The ones I didn't need so much, like some of the ones in my feet and one in my arm.<br /><br />Because there was a severe need for alive bone.<br /><br />And I always feel compelled to donate. Because I'm a bleeding heart. And I have more than I need.<br /><br />So I did. And it turns out there's a long recovery time; my muscles needed to find new bones to reattach to.<br /><br />For awhile I was kind of like a blob of a person.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.healthytimesblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Hand-skeleton.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 324px; height: 610px;" src="http://www.healthytimesblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Hand-skeleton.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Dream two:<br /><br />In an airport. Or on my way into an airport.<br /><br />Zack's there. And a couple of other people.<br /><br />We're going somewhere.<br /><br />It's raining outside.<br /><br />The chick looking at my ticket is shocked to learn that I am older than she is. She could have sworn I was in high school.<br /><br />We board the plane last. Find lame seats.<br /><br />People step on my bag under the seat.Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-16428877312783846712011-05-22T11:26:00.003-04:002011-05-22T11:29:01.116-04:00Burning Wedding5/22/11<br /><br />At my parents' kitchen table, they tell me they have decided to burn all of their wedding photos.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.blogcdn.com/www.aisledash.com/media/2008/05/picture4.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 460px; height: 325px;" src="http://www.blogcdn.com/www.aisledash.com/media/2008/05/picture4.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-47964961660789857432011-05-19T13:19:00.007-04:002011-05-22T11:31:09.428-04:00Dance Swords3/25/11<br /><br />I'm on a boat, then end up on a weird series of docks in England that are more like a weird pier.<br /><br />On the end of one of these docks in a large building. Inside it's a high school dance. Like real high school dances, my friends are too cool to hang out with me, so I wander around solo looking for people.<br /><br />In another room towards the back of the building, Alex B is playing guitar alone. There are people packing up other instruments and equipment around him before he's finished.<br /><br />I go back out into the main room and my friends are still too cool to hang out with me. So I head back out to the docks.<br /><br />Someone suggests a restaurant up on a different dock that has an American owner. Me and some people from my Iceland/Scotland trip go. Eat some salads. Hang.<br /><br />When I leave I'm in a car driving at night. I pass a gas station that has a group of people I recognize out front. I pull in and then head into the convenience store.<br /><br />Two people end up sword fighting. I'm terrified I'm going to get hurt. I decide to run and find a hiding place.<br />I go up some stairs and hide in a closet sized room behind an Asian man.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.travelpod.com/users/g7s22/2.1278023405.a-pretend-sword-fight.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 550px; height: 413px;" src="http://images.travelpod.com/users/g7s22/2.1278023405.a-pretend-sword-fight.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The sword fighters end up fighting right in front of the room for a while and I think I'm trapped.<br /><br />They eventually move and I head back down to my car. All the people out front are English and they don't like me much. I try to get away in my car, but when I put on the brakes nothing happens.<br /><br />Some guy tells me to turn my wheel to the extreme right. I do.<br /><br />He comes over and pulls out a mozzarella stick. He tells my to turn to the extreme left. He pulls out another mozzarella stick.<br /><br />My brakes work. I leave.Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-19059945424283582882011-05-15T09:45:00.004-04:002011-05-15T09:59:46.339-04:00Hidden Ping Pong5/15/11<br /><br />A ton of people are hiding from Jo in my house, but not doing a very good job at it.<br /><br />She comes in, finds everyone awkwardly hiding under chairs and behind their hands.<br /><br />I tell her I was having a party with all the former AmeriCorps and didn't invite her, so I didn't want her to feel bad when she came over.<br /><br />Zack comes over to sit on the couch with me, tells me about this table tennis competition.<br /><br />Everyone piles into a couple cars. We drive down to the Wells plaza with Hannaford in it.<br /><br />I have one sock on my foot, and one in my back pocket. Everyone else is getting ready.<br /><br />It's really hot outside.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://nehauberoi.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/socks_lucky1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 297px;" src="http://nehauberoi.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/socks_lucky1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I leave the windows open a crack and put up one of those sun visor things in the windshield.<br /><br />People start heading over to the place where the table tennis competition is, but Jo and I wait until everyone is inside.<br />While waiting, I put on my other sock. Jo complements me on them.<br /><br />We head inside, and most everyone is getting registered.<br /><br />One kid I'm with really wants to find Matt S. We look all over the place and can't find him. When we go back to the line, he's right there (with a beard).Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-2818009510761881592011-04-04T22:34:00.002-04:002011-04-04T22:40:08.288-04:00[personal, totally conscious update]<span style="font-family:arial;">To the three people I haven't actually spoken to who might be looking for new, weird, crazy person dreams:<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Shit got nuts, yo.<br /><br />I have a couple dreams written down on paper that I need to get in here, and many dreams I have not tried to remember.<br /><br />When things settle down in awake time, then I can get back to asleep time.<br /><br />G'night 'n' sweet dreams.<br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cutewithchris.com/images/2008/08/06/_puppy_sleeping_cuddle.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 360px;" src="http://www.cutewithchris.com/images/2008/08/06/_puppy_sleeping_cuddle.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-61415460929776890442011-03-23T16:45:00.002-04:002011-03-23T16:51:37.293-04:00(archive dream) Friendship, Maine1/5/11<br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">I had gone back to Boulder.<br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">I was staying in an apartment w</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">ith my old best friend,</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10pt;"> Tammy, and her family.<br /><br />When they weren’t home I cooked their foo</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">d and ate it and the mom came home and she was a little drunk and ate som</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">e of the food with me, which ended up being like sweet and sour chicken but was totally potato chunks whe</span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">n I put them in the oven.<br /><br />None of that matters, though.</span></span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.demnos.com/images/cds/WeirdAl_BadHairDay.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.demnos.com/images/cds/WeirdAl_BadHairDay.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:10pt;">I went outside and it was like I was in the middle of a campus and there were tons of people outside.<br /><br />Some dude with weird hair said hi to me and told me that we had been schoolmates when I lived in Boulder. I vaguely remembered this person and it was weird to see who they had turned into.<br /><br />Then I was surrounded by young men who noticed my friendship bracelet. They called it a “pop band” and made fun of it relentlessly. I tried to explain the significance of it and then just started saying hey, guys, I’ve been living in Maine.<br /><br />And then they made fun of me even more because for some reason living in Maine is the biggest faux pas.</span></span>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-28417320930790019022011-03-17T11:26:00.006-04:002011-03-22T18:43:39.809-04:00Human Kerplunk3/17/11<div><br />I'm in Queens with two other people. We're walking down a street. We can see the big globe thing on the right.<br />A car drives past us, with a dude skitching on the back with a gun in his hand.<br />He fires the gun and it is SO LOUD.<br /><br />We're on our way to the subway station. But we have to crawl around through these tunnels and climb up beams and posts. It's like the craziest maze that kind of reminds me of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sewers and what it would be like to climb through a game of Kerplunk.<br /><br />And there's urine and feces everywhere.<br /><br />And homeless people.<br /><br />AND I'm not wearing shoes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://mayhem-chaos.net/photoblog/images/super_sized_kerplunk.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 481px; height: 638px;" src="http://mayhem-chaos.net/photoblog/images/super_sized_kerplunk.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So we're ducking under and climbing over and balancing on different things and finally make it to the subway station where one of my pals tries to buy a pass.<br />I realize I have an old pass in my wallet, but it doesn't work right.<br /><br />I start feeding the machine money and some dude steals my quarters.</div><div><br />Then I walk over to other person with tons of quarters covering the machine.<br /></div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-87343386281760242802011-03-15T11:08:00.005-04:002011-03-15T11:24:00.785-04:00Flood Fence3/15/11<div><br /></div><div>I'm at Funtown, in Saco.</div><div>It's super crowded and it's pretty hard to walk around. Everyone seems to be walking in the same direction, though.</div><div><br /></div><div>Everyone stops moving after a certain point. There is a very tall chain-link fence blocking off people from the outside.</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5090/5240647411_6ae329b0bc.jpg"><img src="http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5090/5240647411_6ae329b0bc.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" border="0" alt="" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Behind the fence is a beach, and the waves are coming closer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pretty soon the ocean is taking over the whole amusement park. </div><div><br /></div><div>I, along with a handful of other people, are trying to go with the waves inland. It's not very stressful. But it is a work out. Walking in water is slow business.</div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-14863524706636695202011-03-14T16:59:00.004-04:002011-03-14T17:14:58.460-04:00Paper Bag Coupons3/14/11<br /><br />I was delivering some fried chicken to a house. The two people who ordered the chicken both had greasy, long, black hair. The man was short and the woman was very robust.<br />I informed them that the bill was $20.<br />The just sat down in their living room; him in a chair, her on the floor. They pulled the chicken out of the greasy paper bags and just ate it.<br />I stood there, telling them that I had more deliveries to do and that they owed me $20.<br /><br />They ignored me.<br /><br />I told them that I was going to call the cops on them. Then I asked them what the number to the local police station was; I didn't want to call 911 because this wasn't an emergency.<br /><br />The man got me his laptop to look up the number.<br /><br />I went outside to call.<br /><br />I never called. Instead I started shoveling off their porch. But I guess it was like a duplex or something, because a bunch of people started walking up the steps, looking at me like I had two heads or something.<br /><br />Then the man came out and just handed me a bunch of paper stuff. I assumed it was payment.<br /><br />I got back in my car and started to drive off when I noticed that none of the things he handed me looked like cash. One was a long, skinny sheet of paper with his information on it (kind of like a business card). Another was a coupon for whatever the woman did for work. The third was another coupon, but for a product, not a service.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/RpXR633Jzl4/0.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 360px;" src="http://i.ytimg.com/vi/RpXR633Jzl4/0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When I got back to work I went on a tangent about these people to my boss. He took me aside and explained that these people pull this scam all the time. They just put up with it. It's okay.<br />Chill out.Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-23163042114345052742011-03-12T22:19:00.002-05:002011-03-14T17:04:21.734-04:00Fish Tattoos3/12/11<br /><br />I don't remember much, but what I do remember is that I had four tattoos on my legs. And they weren't attractive.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mifPU9s03Av4DuvwBgI13Kw0F0iowNwUsYqbMijrwR1PUGx8xRmqLCJj8Bon_TPZOA9grW3uw5_1CucSHBnu2U5p_2WNsglgfE8ycwdpvhZN0JlaoJ-AEKA6qgTHVBXmYEkE-M_hdY0/s1600/Hello_Kitty_tattoo+leg+tattoo+design+sexy+girls+tattoo.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 340px; height: 456px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mifPU9s03Av4DuvwBgI13Kw0F0iowNwUsYqbMijrwR1PUGx8xRmqLCJj8Bon_TPZOA9grW3uw5_1CucSHBnu2U5p_2WNsglgfE8ycwdpvhZN0JlaoJ-AEKA6qgTHVBXmYEkE-M_hdY0/s1600/Hello_Kitty_tattoo+leg+tattoo+design+sexy+girls+tattoo.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There was also something about Wii fishing games. I was trying to find a good one for my parents and couldn't. When I went to their house to tell them that I failed in finding a quality fishing game, they told me that they had already bought one.Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-37817492183547695012011-03-11T11:30:00.006-05:002011-03-11T18:10:26.655-05:00Grandmother Psycho<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/new-toilet-seat-installation.jpg"></a>3/11/11<div><br /></div><div>1.<br /></div><div>I'm walking around a street mall with a bunch of relatives (on my dad's side). My Omi (my grandmother) is having trouble walking.<br />Everyone settles under some overhang thing and I go and look for a wheelchair.<br />I find one that looks like a<span style="font-size:100%;"> Chaise longue</span> with a metal bar around it and it's on wheels.<br />I bring it back to my grandmother.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/new-toilet-seat-installation.jpg"></a><br />She sits in it.<br />Then, at some point when we're not looking, she gets up and hobbles off.<br /><br />From somewhere my other grandmother, GG, shows up. She's tall and walking fine even for being much older. (Which is basically all true in waking life, too.)<br /></div><div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/new-toilet-seat-installation.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 453px;" src="http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/new-toilet-seat-installation.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />2.<br />(I'm not in it, just watching.)<br />A lot of people were killed at a house. The house is completely trashed and there is blood everywhere.<br /><br />The back story is that this college basketball team decided that they were going to murder this house of people. Probably some house just off campus.<br />One guy is super psycho and wants to go in and do all the killing.<br />Another guy is going to stand outside the front door. This guy is also going to try to just act like a drug dealer while he waits around outside, before shit goes down inside.<br /><br />The dude runs inside and just fucking annihilates everyone and everything inside the house.<br />When people think to flee outside, the guy by the door shoots everyone.<br /><br />When the killing is done, bodies are dragged into the bathroom.<br /><br />The toilet is FULL of blood.<br /><br /><br />There is one other guy that is mentioned. He was on the basketball team, but he was not involved. He is a good guy who likes children and kittens.</div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-83204493135008769672011-03-10T09:20:00.004-05:002011-03-10T09:28:47.467-05:00Babies I Don't Have to Take Care of3/10/11<div><br /></div><div>So I've slept with some dude and now I'm pregnant.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I've had the baby, and she is in the hospital because she's not healthy.</div><div><br /></div><div>I run around freaking out, talking to anybody I see about my baby that's dying. Including Jeff M, who I run into on a couch somewhere.</div><div><br /></div><div>I get a phone call that the baby is fine.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm going into someone's house to wait for my child.</div><div><img src="http://in-this-economy.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/couch.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 450px; height: 350px;" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><br /></div><div>She is with the woman that takes care of her. The lady that kind of adopted my baby. I guess. Anyway, the now toddler child calls me Mommy, but know's that I'm not the one that's going to take care of her. The father is there, too. And this toddler little girl is so very sweet and beautiful. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think I cry.</div><div><br /></div><div>The adoptive mother and my child leave. I tell the father that his features made our baby beautiful. He tells me that the mother gave her very good genes, too.</div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-22835309732278228262011-03-10T09:14:00.004-05:002011-03-10T09:20:48.701-05:00Late for Chicken3/9/11<div><br /></div><div>I'm at my parents' house in Wells. It's a work day, and I am going to be very very late (I live and work 1.5 hrs from their house).</div><div><br /></div><div>I try to get ready, but just can't seem to get myself together. </div><div><br /></div><div>HOURS go by. At this point I am telling my parents that if I can get out of the house at that moment I will only have to work until 8pm. </div><div><br /></div><div>BUT I don't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually I'm in a car in a very snowy, LONG LONG LONG driveway. It takes me a moment to get the car moving. I start backing up.</div><div><br /></div><div>The long, long, long driveway is very icy and I start to pick up speed and cannot stop. I'm approaching the road and trying to slam on the brakes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right as I'm about to careen into oncoming traffic, the brakes work and I slam into a stopped position.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://frtim.files.wordpress.com/2011/02/icy_driveway-1.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>Somehow I'm back inside my parents' house and it's the following morning. I'm determined to not be as late as the day before.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm making myself some fried chicken breast on the stove top.</div><div><br /></div><div>I tell my brother he can have some, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>I grab a breast and snap it in half to make sure it's cooked. There's bone through it. And it's pink. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ian's already eating some, and I tell him it's raw and he doesn't seem to care.</div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-87668717090318729082011-03-04T09:40:00.008-05:002011-03-08T09:24:03.920-05:00Basement Leotard3/4/11<div><br /></div><div>Dream uno:</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm walking with Betsy (Sparkling Cat Treasure B) down a street lined with shops. Kind of like downtown Portsmouth, NH. We end up walking behind this guy holding a GIGANTIC gun pointed at the buildings as he walks by.</div><div>B and I walk past him, not at all worried.</div><div>I look back at the guy as he's walking past a cloth/fabric shop and tell Betsy that the woman that owns the place is a major bitch.</div><div>She ends up tearing out of the store to berate the gun guy. </div><div>Betsy and I giggle and head into an over-priced jewelry store.</div><div><br /></div><div>We look at gaudy earrings and goof around the store. </div><div>Then I need to use the bathroom.</div><div>I ask the store owner if they have one, and she tells me to go down the hallway, down the stairs, and there it is.</div><div><br /></div><div>The toilet is essentially in the middle of what looks like a basement.</div><div>And it's filled to the brim with dirty water. Which obviously means it's clogged and I can't flush it or it will overflow. This also means that I can't use it because it will overflow.</div><div>And now, of course, I am naked.</div><div><br /></div><div>I run around the basement looking for things to pee into. It's becoming an urgent matter. I notice another room off to one side.</div><div>I peek into it and notice that it's a laundry room, and one of my meteorology professors is in there.</div><div><br /></div><div>I dart away from that room and find a small trashcan.</div><div>I begin to relieve myself when Dr. H. comes out to grab a bottle of detergent. I try to stop urinating, but can't really, and it just all goes down my legs. </div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2381/2115009174_15b08a192a.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 500px;" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Dream dos:</div><div><br /></div><div>Dr. Alex Karev (from Grey's Anatomy) and Courtney (from The Biggest Loser) are dating.</div><div>(I'm not a part of this dream, just watching.)</div><div>I know that Courtney has hidden from Alex recently.</div><div>Alex brings Courtney out of where he used to hide from the world. It's in the desert, in a crater looking thing.</div><div>There's a blanket on the ground, some weird piece of electric equipment, and a can of Coca-Cola.</div><div>Alex tells Courtney that he doesn't want to hide from her, and asks to put the GPS coordinates of his hiding place on her phone. He hooks some wires up to her phone and the deed is done.</div><div><br /></div><div>He then offers her some cake.</div><div><br /></div><div>She refuses. Continually.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually the pressure to eat some cake breaks her, and she takes a bite.</div><div>Then she starts turning bright red and hyperventilating. Finally she passes out. She is allergic to cake.</div><div><br /></div><div>Alex freaks out and ends up dragging her into a shed-looking place.</div><div>He creates a make-shift syringe out of a power drill and sticks it in her shoulder.</div><div><br /></div><div>He's super upset and crawls into a bed. I turn into a real person and crawl into bed with him to comfort him. I try to cuddle. Then someone interrupts and Alex leaves.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a doctor. I go out of that room and I'm in a hospital. I head for a door into a hallway, but the door is heavier than I expect and an old lady behind me laughs at my terrible attempt at opening it.</div><div>I walk down this hallway and pass a gym where doctors are playing volleyball. One is wearing sunglasses. And I know she always wears them. </div><div><br /></div><div>I walk down the hallway and past a certain point it turns into a school hallway filled with students. Matt S is there, singing. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm wearing a leotard. And I'm late for class.</div><div><br /></div><div>I rush up a stairwell and can't remember which class I'm supposed to be in. Math? English? I see someone I think I have a class with and jump into a desk.</div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-78886468150744543602011-03-03T09:54:00.006-05:002011-03-03T17:22:58.651-05:00Cougar Orange: Dog Piano Bar3/3/11<br /><br />(I don't remember if these were connected, or even if this was the order. The following is what I do remember.)<br /><div><br /></div><div>Dinner Party:<br /><br />I'm at a dinner party at a friend's house. Dinner is being held in this big room with floor to ceiling picture windows on two adjoining walls. The host is a little miffed because someone brought friends, and there were a certain number of place settings and a certain amount of food. Now it doesn't quite work.<br />The host and a couple other people walk outside. We can all see them out the windows walking up a stairwell against the edge of the woods.<br />Betsy (squirrel-hatin B) is sitting next to me. It's like dusk outside.<br />She starts to point at the woods near the staircase.<br />She says it's a cougar; a mountain lion.<br />I tell her it's not a cougar, probably just a rock.<br />She swears it's a cougar and starts flipping out.<br />I have to physically restrain her.<br /><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://animal.discovery.com/mammals/cougar/pictures/cougar-picture.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 408px; height: 293px;" src="http://animal.discovery.com/mammals/cougar/pictures/cougar-picture.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /><br />Other Party:<br /><br /></div><div>At a party in a different house.<br />Edward is there, along with some random chicks and a blond dude.<br />I'm pretty sure everyone is very drunk. Even me.<br />I think there were oranges or clementines or some other small orange-colored fruit.<br />Then Edward and I are topless.<br />We talk about how this isn't the first time we've seen each other topless.<br />I am covering myself up with a blanket, though.<br /></div><div><br />Girl Date:<br /><br /></div><div>I'm going down a stairwell in a school or office building with Allie Brosh (<a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/">http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/</a>).<br />Every once in a while there would be a HUGE white sign with black letters on it that we'd have to break through.<br />They were pick up lines and jokes.<br />It was Allie's way of hitting on me and asking me out.<br />I agree to go out with her.<br /><br />We're at her place and a small dog comes and hangs out with me.<br />Then a large chocolate lab comes and says hi.<br />Allie gives both of them rawhide bones to chew on.<br /><br />My hand gets a little too close for comfort to the lab and he starts going nuts. Barking and trying to bite me.<br />The other dog grabs the lab's bone and drags it to the other side of the room.<br />The lab follows.<br />The little dog rolls over onto its back.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gKjLTyAb4js/TXAUKLumPeI/AAAAAAAABwA/3L_OkAaH1GM/s1600/CMC%2BKDR%2B132.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gKjLTyAb4js/TXAUKLumPeI/AAAAAAAABwA/3L_OkAaH1GM/s400/CMC%2BKDR%2B132.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579982103491526114" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div>Exes:<br /><br />I'm on a staircase with Dane. We're arguing about a bar. I tell him it's near by.<br />We get to the top of the stairs and we're on a busy downtown street with tons of bars.<br />We walk past all sorts of theme bars and people try to get us to go in.<br />I drag him into the piano bar that I was thinking of.<br />Through the main room, which was full of people, we headed into a second room.<br />A DJ was playing VERY loud music.<br />A dude that I work with was there.<br />I pull Dane over to the side of the room and scream so he can hear me.<br />I tell him it's not usually a DJ, that live bands play here.<br /></div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-69839147649461089232011-03-01T13:39:00.006-05:002011-03-02T10:03:59.813-05:00(David Byrne likes my poetry)3/1/11<div><br /></div><div>Myself and a handful of other people are on an outside scavenger hunt. But we're looking for these red, floating icons over things and scanning them with a pen looking thing. It's all very video-game-esque.<br />I go into a shed to look for things.<br />Eventually me and maybe 3 other people end up in a classroom. But now we're looking for pink sticky notes instead.<br />We look under things, behind posters, all over.<br /><br />Then David Byrne is there. He's teaching, or critiquing, or something, poetry. He asks me to read my poem.<br />I don't have one.<br />But I do remember one and recite it.<br />David Byrne really likes it.<br /><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6Q1acfzVtqqCYqQp9HBxhW46rG_9ilAruByiRKVAI3eEKTHWNq2G-ohWj_Y_D66BLwAMvaKKqa6ktWl7DJb0cRarRMxWClne4hdxBiF3SNmWG0l9BcQ_KiSshsWv-xdf2pLKWbENa8WN/s400/DavidByrne1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 371px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6Q1acfzVtqqCYqQp9HBxhW46rG_9ilAruByiRKVAI3eEKTHWNq2G-ohWj_Y_D66BLwAMvaKKqa6ktWl7DJb0cRarRMxWClne4hdxBiF3SNmWG0l9BcQ_KiSshsWv-xdf2pLKWbENa8WN/s400/DavidByrne1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a></div><div><br />David Byrne, a few other people, and me go down a huge marble staircase. The bottom of the staircase is filled with people wearing blue.<br />Everyone is chanting, kind of. Like a wavering kind of chant song thing.<br />I know that they are Turkish and they are mourning a dead Olympian.<br />I stand with them, but because I don't know the chant-song, I start moving my arms like they do in Angels in the Outfield.<br /><br /></div><div>Eventually we get by the stair crowd and move into the huge room. There's bleacher seating around the whole room (crowded except for down front) and one teacher in front of everyone.<br /></div><div>David Byrne sits next to me near the floor, right in front of the teacher.<br /></div><div>He says, "Hey, why don't we get the whole place to critique your poem?" and hands me a sheet of paper. My poem is not on it.<br /></div><div>I tell him I can't remember it. I'm too nervous to remember it.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So David Byrne gets up in front of everyone and tells them about my poem.</div><div>Then goes off on a tangent. And then another tangent.</div><div>It's all very intelligent stuff.</div><div>David Byrne ends up talking about a woman. A person in the crowd asks about this woman.<br /></div><div>David Byrne goes on about her being a gypsy.</div><div>About gypsies.</div><div>Other gypsy related things.</div><div>He is very excited and educated and cannot stop.<br /></div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-32768691636228980862011-02-27T10:06:00.005-05:002011-02-28T18:18:05.664-05:00Outer-Space Dinosaur Taffy2/27/11<br /><br />1:<br />I'm with another person and we get into a hot air balloon that takes us into outer space. We get just outside the atmosphere and begin to orbit. But, because there is no gravity, we all get separated.<br />It's really relaxing. I keep looking at Earth.<br />Then I realize that I'm getting pulled back in.<br /><br />I'm back on Earth, and I'm with some mad scientist character who is going to send me back into space to retrieve the balloon.<br />He tells me to get into this human cannon looking thing.<br />I do.<br /><br />I'm shot back into space. I catch up with the other person and we have to figure out a way to get it back into the atmosphere.<br />I have water balloons.<br />The weight of the additional water balloons is enough to bring us back to Earth.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dinosaurcentral.com/images/whatkt/captainraptor%20%28tony%20medeiros%29.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 500px;" src="http://www.dinosaurcentral.com/images/whatkt/captainraptor%20%28tony%20medeiros%29.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />2:<br />I'm on some tropical looking island with a handful of other people.<br /><br />There are dinosaurs roaming about.<br /><br />We're on a beach watching the dinosaurs.<br /><br />I get on the phone and tell someone that there are dinosaurs.<br /><br />He doesn't believe me.<br /><br />I try and get him to believe me.<br /><br />3:<br />I'm outside of my elementary school with a group of people. Mostly students and maybe two teachers. It's the first day of classes.<br />One teacher starts naming off all the kids.<br />All the boys are named Ian, including my brother (that's his real name).<br /><br />We are able to go into the school and someone asks me my name.<br />But my mouth is full of taffy or something and it sounds like SNMCHAAADY.<br /><br />I go into the bathroom. It's gigantic. And there are lots of kids running around in it.<br />My mom's in there, too. And she blows her nose and then looks around for a trash can.<br />She can't find one.Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-54544806814638792032011-02-25T07:55:00.003-05:002011-02-26T13:16:34.703-05:00Balcony Lipstick2/25/11<br /><br />I'm in Corey's house, but it's much larger than in real life. There are lots of rooms and staircases and Corey and Dorie are never in the same room together.<br /><br />I head into a room that's practically empty, minus a bin full of garbage maybe. Stickston comes in with me. For some reason I have this urge to flip over the pile onto the floor. Spiders with egg sacs are scurrying everywhere. I try to squash them all, and then Stink starts helping.<br /><br />From the pile wriggles a little rabbit. It's white with black spots. I pick it up, and it bites me. I try and do this more than once, with the same outcome.<br /><div><br /></div><div>I guess I'm going out somewhere with Corey and Dorie, because I need to get dressed. I go up one of the staircases and end up on a balcony over looking a street with heavy pedestrian traffic. There are piles and piles of folded laundry on this balcony. Also, it's nighttime. So I'm up there, in my underwear, grabbing shirts from the piles to figure out what to wear. I end up having to decide between a very very large yellow shirt or a very very large blue shirt. There are two young girls walking down the street, so I yell to them and ask their opinion. They say yellow. Definitely yellow.<br /><br />I'm dressed in the shirt, but I also have another shirt under it, another over it, and a cardigan.<br /><br />There's a party in the house now, tons and tons of people. And all I remember is that I had to keep telling people where the bathroom was.<br /><br /></div><div>I keep getting very hot, and keep taking off shirts.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mostly this dream was me wandering around a very large house.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wildflowermix.com/images/Wiki-attrib/TobiasGasser/edelweiss-300x225.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://www.wildflowermix.com/images/Wiki-attrib/TobiasGasser/edelweiss-300x225.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Another dream (which I'm not a part of, just watching):<br /><br /></div><div>There are two quite young black girls playing with makeup. The older is putting makeup on the younger one.<br />They come out of a bedroom and their older brother says something.<br />The young girl looks in the mirror and is slightly horrified.<br /><br />Then she says that the lipstick is hot. It's burning her lips.<br /><br />She wipes all the makeup off her face.<br /><br /></div><div>Then she starts to sing Edelweiss. (Which I ended up having stuck in my head all day.)<br /></div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-91427457615155972722011-02-24T08:32:00.012-05:002011-02-24T19:53:25.905-05:00Cassette Tapes and Candy2/24/11<div><br />It's early in the morning, at sunrise. I'm in a very cluttered house with a huge picture window without glass. Looking out, it's the top view of a city. It's really amazing and gives me this exhilarated feeling. It's all gold.<br /><br />For some reason I know that it's an optical illusion, so I decide to step out the window. But my feet can't reach the ground. I decide it's not a good idea to jump.<br />Instead, I decide to take a photo.<br /><br />I reach up on top of a shelf and can't find a working camera. I do find TONS of cassette tapes without their cases and a lot of empty cases, but obviously none of them match.<br /><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6kS1ZgjZmxg/TWbccO-fmbI/AAAAAAAABv4/ypPqnL6MD5M/s1600/cassette.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 247px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6kS1ZgjZmxg/TWbccO-fmbI/AAAAAAAABv4/ypPqnL6MD5M/s400/cassette.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577387566159600050" border="0" /></a><br />Into this room comes a wandering, black homeless man. He tells me about his life and I think it's fascinating. He looks out the window. So I look out the window again,and now it's a different view: street level. A guy is standing with his back to us holding a rifle.<div><br /></div><div>The homeless guy leaves.</div><br /><div>I go into another room.<br />My mom's there. It kind of looks like a science classroom with all the tables.<br />The room is also filled with overflowing boxes full of costumes. We start looking for tapes and their cases, but just find costumes. We move from table to box to table. Throwing around costumes all the while.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We get to table at the end of the room, where we run into lots of young men with candy.</div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-81386280038317499892011-02-23T09:05:00.010-05:002011-02-23T14:20:11.515-05:00Zombie Buffalo Fly2/23/11<div><br /></div><div>Zombie outbreak. I'm with my parents, KRN and Naked Bob, and we all run down to the basement of the building we're in. Which happens to be a cafeteria type place and there are a lot of people down there sitting at the picnic-style cafeteria tables.</div><div><br /></div><div>Including Danny G. He's been crying. We hug for a long time. Then we go smoke cigarettes.</div><div><br /></div><div>I decide that I'm going to get out of there. Out of town. Away from the zombies. I get in my car and head out of town. As are many, many others. Up ahead I notice brake lights as far as the eye can see. So I decide I have to turn around.</div><div>When I left my parents there were no signs of zombies, but as I got back to where they were, masses of the undead wandered about.</div><div><br /></div><div>I ran through throngs of living dead and one woman zombie ended up helping me get back into the building through her connection with Bruce.</div><div><br /></div><div>I get down to the basement area. It's now furnished and there are only a handful of us, including my parents and Danny plus an old guy and a young guy. The young guy is kind of a jerk. The old guy is super helpful. We really seal ourselves into this place. We get settled and turn on the television to see if there's news.</div><div><br /></div><div>All that's on, ON EVERY CHANNEL, are zombie movies. Day of the Dead, Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead. Like it's some kind of joke.</div><div><br /></div><div>Days pass. The zombies disappear. We move about the building more. I move a bed over a vent to the basement. The old man helps.</div><div>There's a sign with two names on it: Bruce (my zombie man-friend) and Bub (a nod to Day of the Dead's trained zombie).</div><div><br /></div><div>Back in the basement, my dad opens the door leading to the outside. He goes out quickly and grabs a tiny buffalo. He traps it in a cage in the basement.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K-TtL_aZflw/TWVdtd97FSI/AAAAAAAABvo/O0qZ80dBoQg/s400/Buffalos2716Tiny.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 171px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576966749288076578" /></div><div><br /></div><div>The buffalo continues to get smaller and smaller and fits inside a toy airplane. I make it play with me and other toys.</div><div><br /></div><div>It still gets smaller and smaller until it's now a fruit fly.</div><div><br /></div><div>The games are now arcade games that I'm playing against the fly. I win the game, brag a bit, and the fly takes off.</div><div><br /></div><div>I go all around the arcade, find my brother, and ask if he's seen my fly pal. He hasn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>I go back to the game we were playing and the fly is there, playing with someone else. I try to apologize, but it takes off again.</div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-34402687163049652312011-02-19T10:16:00.003-05:002011-02-19T10:19:19.046-05:00No Water2/19/11<br /><br />I'm in the shower. It's going. I'm just standing there.<br /><br />Then I turn the water off.<br /><br />I realize that I didn't cleanse myself.<br /><br />I start shampooing and lathering my body with soap.<br /><br />Next, I turn the water back on and rinse.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://cdn.dornob.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/bloody-handprint-shower-curtain-design.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 468px; height: 430px;" src="http://cdn.dornob.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/bloody-handprint-shower-curtain-design.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-61768923052218839952011-02-18T08:00:00.004-05:002011-02-18T08:22:12.691-05:00Plastic Pillows?<div>2/18/11</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://pvc-vinyl.com/files/2010/07/vinyl-pillow-case.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 222px;" src="http://pvc-vinyl.com/files/2010/07/vinyl-pillow-case.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Vinyl pillow cases. That's all my dream was about. Except, they were blue, and not yellow like this one.Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7251737281866440840.post-44212432227781467582011-02-17T21:26:00.004-05:002011-02-24T10:59:38.583-05:00Prison Cat2/17/11<br /><br />I'm in prison. A weird prison. And they give me new clothes and sneakers. They tell me to report to the gym. I get there and look around and wait for someone to notice me. They tell me I'm in the wrong "class"; this one is for adults and not me. Some woman guard person escorts to my "cell". I have two roommates. It's a pretty nice place, like a dorm room.<div><br /></div><div><div><div>A car crashes around the parking lot outside the window. Cars go flying, flipping upside down, falling down hills, and some have people in them. These people are very hurt. After the major action I go to see if my car was damaged in the wake. It was not.</div><div><br /></div><div>I come back through the front entrance vestibule thing. I'm stopped in the vestibule by three men who start to get into a fight. They tell me I can't go inside yet. They have knives. The start to stab each other, mostly in the hands. There's a lot of blood.</div><div>I run inside and grab the security guard, but I have to take over while he's gone.</div><div>Then someone else starts something inside and I'm involved.</div><div><br /></div><div>I sneak off and run down a stairwell that leads to bottom floor cells. It's very dark and gross; old carpet, old paint, no light.</div><div>I run and run and run.</div><div>I can tell they're behind me.</div><div>I stop to hide, hoping they'll pass me.</div><div>There's a cat that comes over. I think that it will draw attention to me.</div><div>I try to keep very still. I'm not very well hidden.</div><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ads57Dc7RmI/TV5x_jvRrnI/AAAAAAAABvQ/9Dt__vqNj0Y/s320/mommacat_400_MommaPrisonCat_TrinaWilliams_1-15-10.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 193px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5575018725470482034" /></div><div><br /></div><div>They don't notice me.</div><div>I sneak around a corner and leave the cat. Someone comes out of the "cell" I'm in front of and I do the quiet-finger in front of my lips. The dudes pass me by.</div><div><br /></div><div>I get back to my cell and the door is completely messed up. One side of the frame is out, the knob is out, it's just a mess. I'm in a hurry because I want to lock myself in and keep the dudes out.</div><div>We slam the frame back together. Another person and I work on the door handle. It goes in.</div><div><br /></div><div>The dudes are coming.</div><div><br /></div><div>We get the door back together just in time. Slam it shut and lock it.</div><div><br /></div></div></div>Nar-Narhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02175344614572133194noreply@blogger.com0