My Favorite

I ride the 125 to Shorewood in reverse, then get off and walk down the opposite side of the street that I normally walk on. The sidewalk is blocked by some bushes spilling out of a yard, so I get on my hands and knees and crawl under. Lifting my head I come face to face with a huge fluffy cat with an ugly squashed face. I freeze, terrified that it might be hostile. It stares at me until another skinny cat walks up and they have a conversation in French. Then the ugly cat turns to me and says, "Venez chez moi."

At this point I recount the entire dream so far to someone, including a bit I don't remember about getting on the bus because my mom told me I would be able to get a good swimsuit.
Then I continue along the street just past the point where I met the cats.

As soon as I reach the top of the hill I notice the sky and it catches my breath. It is filled with dark, swirling purple and gray clouds, which are frequently lit up with with flashes of lightening. But all I can hear is the sudden absence of gravity and the force of the wind that picks me up from the ground and gently tosses me into space.
It is the most amazing feeling I have ever experienced, and I am instantly terrified that I will never reach the ground again. I struggle against nothing, trying to swim to the ground, but the wind keeps me aloft. Finally it lets me down close enough so that I can touch and claw at the pavement, trying to reach the grass of my parents' lawn for more purchase. Up again, then down and I press my arms and face, then chest to the earth, finally reconnected. I crawl and roll my way into the house.

Again, I recount the dream to someone, determined not to lose it.

The inside of the house is smaller, filled with human-sized carpeted cat condos. I am a waitress and I fly around serving the customers inside.

Paris Adventures

Several people from the program are with me on the RER out of Paris. We try to get off, but realise at the last minute that the only exit is at the very back of the train, so we all run, dodging passengers, and hop off. Jessica is the last one and gets stuck inside. She waves to us sadly as the train goes back in the direction it came.

I am visiting a family in France; I must find the correct piece for the symphony to play before the evil conductor (the architect of the Basilica of Sacre Coeur) find the piece he wants the symphony to play.

I have been speeing in a tree. I wake up and sleepily roll over. My vision in very fuzzy, and I can't make out what I am seeing, but after a few seconds I realize I am laying beneath a veil. Sitting on the branch directly above me are two cats. They are frighteningly close, peering at me intently with very animated expressions. I am afraid they might attack me, so I meow at them. They jump down and frolic around, and I come out and play with them.

Someone comes in my room at the MEC while I am sleeping and says, "Look at all this stuff spread around here! It's like you've moved in for a month. How are you going to get it packed up and moved into your other room by noon?" It is 10:30 in the morning. I thought I was supposed to stay in the new room for a week, so I go down to the front desk in my pyjamas to ask if I really need to switch rooms. I ask the a lady I do not recognize, and she tells me, "You have to ask your friend." I look around and Alex is sitting on the couch. I go and sit down next to him, asking, "What are you doing here?"
He doesn't answer, but I don't remember asking the question, so I ask, "Why did you tell them to switch my room?"
He answers, "Because you can sleep in my room."
"And I'll be sleeping...?" "
On the couch," he replies. There is an awkward moment, because I didn't know he had a couch in his room so I hadn't been expecting that answer, and he said it like I shouldn't have asked the question. Also, the couch he is referring to is the one from the computer lab that is comfortable for about two peole to sit on, but certainly not for sleeping.
"Of course," I reply.

Zombies!

I ride my bike up a giant spiral ramp in the mall-like east end of the Art building. I stop near the top, where some of my future classmates stop at an espresso stand. As I stand there the bike almost rolls off the edge of the ramp, as it has no guardrail, but I keep my balance and ride forward. I have difficulty turning the pedals over to the proper side, because it hurts to kick them in bare feet.

Later, I have to get out of the Art building because zombies have started invading. The basement has partially collapsed and become a cramped, uneven tunnel. I run into Eric from Solstice and point him in the direction of the exit, but I continue deeper into the depths of the building. For some reason I have to get back to the east end, although I know there are many zombies there. I take the elevator to the first floor and find someone I recognize. Together we push open the colossal wooden doors to the Church that has taken the place of the library. A zombie plays the organ at the opposite end of the hall, and many others wander about hissing dumbly.

Outside in the Quad the sun sets as I walk along the path, surrounded by people I should know. They are all dressed in black to play capture the flag, and run about to tag the zombies surrounding us. I try to tell them how stupid this is, and not to look them in the eyes, but as I watch Gracie come face-to-face with a zombie, and in the dusk her eyes begin to glow red out of a darkened face. In my peripheral vision I see more red dots start to glow in the darnkness. I go back the way I came, realizing I any attempt to save another of my friends would be useless. I take a right by the Music building, but stop near a blooming cherry tree as several of my shadowy, red-eyed friends surround me. I climb into the tree and try to leap off of one of the branches and take off flying in mid-air, but apparently my flying capabilities are limited to slowly floating upward from an immobile position on the ground. I quickly get up and face the crowd with diverted eyes, but this time in my peripheral vision they brighten. I look up and can distinguish the faces of Josh Morris, Brian Le, and others. I thought it was already night, but when I look at the sky I see there was just a cloudy sunset, and a little bit of day is still left, but the threadbare blanket of clouds is about to cover the horizon again. I run.

I come to a deserted highrise building in the center of town with my friend. There is no sign of life, human or zombie, just many, many pigeons. We decide the highrise is the safest place to stay because zombies can't climb stairs (or something), and all of the panic-crazed humans fled long ago. We decide to climb up the outside of the building just to be safe.

Quietly we climb past ten or more of the paritally destroyed first stories, deciding we need to get higher to feel safe. We decide the next one would be acceptable, but as we haul ourselves up to the balcony railing we hear voices. We cling to the egde and carefully peer over. There are two giant, fluffy, talking cats living in the apartment. The grey one sits in a patio chair reading a newspaper and sipping coffee. The orange one (the wife) asks her husband if he would like anymore lemonade to finish his breakfast. She walks out of the kitchen (upright), holding a pitcher of lemonade.
In a whisper I tell my shocked friend that when all of the humans left town or turned into zombies the cats must have taken over, because zombies don't care about cats. Without the repression and all of the hormones from eating human food they must have grown into more human-like creatures and taken over our lives. While they might be able to protect us, I reason that they are probably more likely to kill us to prevent us from attracting the destructive zombies, and because of their longheld hatred for the opressive masters.

Carefully, we climb upward, past three more stories of cat families until we reach the very top, deserted floor. We will have to be quiet, but there is enough food to sustain us for a little while. Just there is a massive crashing as the building collapses below us. Only our apartment survives destruction, and now sits on top of a giant pile of rubble. I think of all the dead giant cats underneath us. I don't have long to think as the door to the balcony crashes open and a horde of wild-eyed men and women rush across a bridge of rubble into the apartment. The man in front, dressed in a voilently colorful floral shit has his hands outstretched to strangle me.