Back to the Present

I enter a restaurant/cafe, similar to the ice cream parlor in Fairhaven, and my companion orders a drink. I pass for the moment and notice something odd; all of the espresso machines (there are several) and situated to face outwards from the counter, so the baristas have to come all the way around to make your drink. We head over to the south side of the cafe.
--
Instead I find myself speeding in that direction at a high rate of speed in the driver's seat of some sort of futuristic hovercraft. Doc sits next to me, yelling out directions to dodge our pursuers, who shoot at us with laser beams. I pull down violently on the steering wheel and the vehicle lurches upward steeply. All we can see in front of us now is a star-speckled void. Then slowly, we begin to tip forward, increasing our speed with little hope of avoiding crashing directly through the Wal-Mart below. I turn to the passenger, who is now my companion from the cafe, and inform him/her of our fate. At this point the screen in front of us goes blank and the motion of our car freezes. Instead, the screen illustrates in glowing green arches our projected path of destruction. My companion asks, "Why bother to tell us, when we're going to die anyway?" I point to a blinking arch on the screen, tilt my head sideways, and trace it with my finger. "Because this is the path we're going to take."
Everything unfreezes, and we glide gracefully to the ground.
We step out of the car, no longer very concerned with our pursuers, and walk up the steps to the courthouse. I pass an ugly Asian prostitute with a vicious expression.
--
I step up to the counter, telling the barista not to get up, I'll take care of my drink. I steam pitchers of chai and milk at once. The milk heats much more quickly, and as I turn it off, the chai expands rapidly, threatening to run over and make a mess. Moving at an alarmingly slow pace, I manage to turn the steam off before disaster strikes. I begin to pour the syrupy liquid into a paper cup, but realize I am going to have too much, so I pour the rest into another cup. Adding milk and tasting the result, I realize I have made a serious error in ordering sweet chai, but say nothing. The barista compliments my milk. I thank her and stutter something between "I've been working on it" and "Practice helps". As I finish pouring, another barista rushes up, crying, "Someone's friend is on the phone, he needs to say something but he's about to leave the airport!" With a jolt I realize this is Alex, and I need to say goodbye, although I didn't think it was summer yet. I sprint across the room and seize the phone, but it has already gone dead.
--
Inside the courthouse, I dash up the marble steps, frantically looking for the prostitute. I hope I will recognize her, because she has probably changed drastically in the time that has passed since I first saw her on the stairs out front. I realize now that she is the key to the mishap in time travel. I spot her on the next floor propositioning a lawyer, and I make towards her urgently. The lawyer is annoyed that I think I have a higher priority than him, and the prostitute just looks creeped out, and shuffles away. Growing more frantic, I reach out and grab her arm.
--
In the restaurant, I give Alex a hug. He tries to give me a paper plate for the buffet, and I hug him again. He asks if I have been drinking, and I respond, "No, but I probably should."
The buffet is gorgeous and vegan, with plates of steamed corn, rice, roasted peppers and asparagus. I fill my plate but realize we are late getting to it, and there isn't much food left. I put some back, even though I am starving.
--
Alex, Michelle Burce and I take a walk behind the Wal-Mart. Michelle carries a blanket in a plastic sack, and insists that we take it, because she can't stay to watch the meteor shower. I still don't believe it is summer already.

In which our hero goes home and writes of his day

I wake up at eleven, the earliest I have awoken this entire spring break. I know I'm probably going to get lost today. I take a shower. My usual eight minutes and twenty seconds (give or take a few) of Dove and minty smelling shampoo heaven. I get out of the shower and with a towel slipping down, I make a half-hearted dash to my room. This dash consists of one long step as my room is very much next to the bathroom.

I sit down at my computer and log on to my instant message program, checking to see if that one lady friend of mine that I'd like to make more of a friend is on. Nope. She's not. Just set the away message, maybe she'll be on before you go and she'll want to come with you. Open Google. Where was I going again? Oh yeah, that's right. I plug in the coordinates to Google and upon learning that I have no paper (nor ink) in my printer, I must pass the duty to print to my brother. These directions seem dubious to me, but it's better to have them instead of nothing at all.

I take my mother's car. I feel I need some street cred, despite the fact that I average a very high miles per gallon ratio out of my car. I put the key in and twist. The motor doesn't purr. It's not supposed to. I'm good to go. I back out of the garage and am rolling on I-5 towards Seattle.

Damnit, I knew these directions were wrong. "Hamilton, how do I get to so and so?"

"Oh, just take thingamajo and whatchamacallit."

And so I go and so I arrive. I pay the exorbitant fee to park and situate myself in a very lonely stall. I don't want anyone to bump, ding, or scratch this car. And so I step out and walk to the party. I feel somewhat lonely but the sun is shining and I am happy. But lo, dark clouds loom menacingly not far from here, I best return and get my jacket.

As I return, the march is about to start, so I start walking and following those ahead of me. I'm alone and it has started raining. I don't remember much of the march, but somehow I became quite soaked.

It ends at another park due north and next to the water. I walk along and while I'm being handed a lightbulb, a bug lands near my eye. I start to try to flick it away and then I hear someone call my name. What? I didn't think anybody I knew was going to be here, they all told me they didn't. It's Jenny, but she doubts I remember her. Of course I remember her, though we've only met once before. I'd have said something sooner, but I was still a tad freaked out about the bug. And my eye. I hate things near my eye.

We sit and talk and catch up as if we knew each other much better. I enjoy it because there is none of the getting to know you nonsense. We are called to the stage and two blokes talk for a few moments, but they are followed by Ron Sims. Ron Sims riles the party up and provides some much needed excitement. They brought him out too soon however, he is followed by speakers with little excitement or momentum.

The crowd disperses and Jenny and I are photographed. Some remark is made by one of us that I need to walk all the way back to my car. After some cajoling, we duck into a fish and chips joint and talk about a multitude of things. I think to myself that I am an incredibly boring person and that I ramble too much.

The time that I had said I was going to be home passes and we realize how much time we had been sitting there. We shamble back towards my car and then I drive her home.

I was lost for about fifteen minutes but was able to find my bearings and point my car due South.

Awkward Covers

I am holding a conversation with my mother in a parking lot, but I am late to get on a bus with my French class. My mother seems concerned for my safety, but I insist I must get on the bus or I will be left behind. I board the yellow school bus, showing my U-Pass to the driver. I take a seat near the front, and see that my mother has followed me on board. I stand up, glaring, and say quietly, "Mom. What are you doing on this bus?" and then louder, "Excuse me. What are you doing on this bus?" She finally gets that I am embarrassed and I don't want my classmates to know my mother wants to chaperon our field trip, so she says, "Oh, right... Ahem..." and turns to the bus driver and announces, "I am interested in psychology-gical... anthropology. I want to research- cite sources of the study of."
Meanwhile the bus driver has assumed she is crazy but starts driving anyway. We make a circle in the parking lot, but eventually my mom distracts the her so much that she veers off into a field, turns off the bus and everyone gets out.

I go to stay with a friend for the night, and when I go to shut the bedroom door, I am extremely embarrassed that the younger brother is awake. I think he is also frozen, although I can't recall how literally.
In the morning I get lost in the covers, and detach myself reluctantly.

At some later point I remember complaining to a friend in a cafe about my embarrassing experiences.

A man dressed as an asparagus spear nervously shuffles through his jokes written on the backs of carefully clipped coupons before his audition. He carefully stores them in a small carved wooden box before cautiously stepping out onto the ice.
Now from the view of Asparagus Man, I feel incredibly disappointed in myself as the winning couple skates around me, waving to adoring fans with affixed photogenic smiles.
Disappointment doesn't last long, because Asparagus Man climbs onto a stage with the encouragement of the crowd, crying with happiness, and steps into the waiting coffin, surrounded by cheering costumed creatures.

Anxieties

The band is putting on a concert that is the culmination of a lot of hard work. We have taken a bus to somewhere nearby, where we will wait for our turn to perform.

I join my friends by the buses. Anna and Micaiah say no, I can't come, and everyone leaves me standing on the sidewalk, mouth agape, to eat lunch by myself.

In the practice room, I am excited to prove to Matt Perry that I have finally found my mouthpiece. I pull it out of my backpack and display it proudly. I realize that it is almost time to perform and that none of my friends have concert attire on. I open the door and smugly tell them that they're late. It is good to one-up them, as I'm still sore at them due to the lunch circumstance.

We are onstage, ready to perform. My father is conducting. Instead of sitting in chairs, the horn section has small cots on which they can recline. My father raises his baton, and I realize I don't know where any of my music is. I have been given several books full of music, but unlike the rest of the band, I haven't taken the time to locate the songs we will be playing. I frantically shuffle through the pages as the music starts. I can't find any of the music I need. I throw the books to the floor and curl up on my cot to cry, furious at myself for not preparing properly. My father sees that I am distraught and cuts the band off, running to my side. I'm mad at him now, for placing me above the band, when they've all worked so hard to be here. As the curtains falls into place over the stage, I trudge out the back door, rather than face the wrath of the band and my so-called friends.

I am in a jungle. Rather, it is a very, very large room, filled with flora and fauna of an Indian climate. I have circled the premises once entirely and am now trying to find a way up. a large elephant swings his trunk over my head and back again; I try to grab it. However, it is smooth and I fall off every time. I know there's something else I need to find before I can climb the elephant.
Unfortunately, my failed attempts have set off a flood, which sweeps up all creatures in its path. I let it carry me along, aimlessly, until the waters have receded somewhat. I look around for a log or something to float with. Grabbing one, I tell my sister that it isn't floaty enough, we have to find something younger. I see a monkey floating by, trying to pull a large armored cart. It is not succeeding, and is pulled into a whirlpool. I lunge forward and try to save it as it goes under, but the monkey I come up with is only pulling a wicker basket, not a cart. I panic, those monkeys must be saved,
The jungle personnel clear the water away, and where the whirlpool was is a plastic bubble. Inside are the monkeys that were pulled under. I rejoice - this means we can save them - but the workers shake their heads sadly. They say they cannot save these monkeys; I do not understand. I frantically try to convince them that we can get the monkeys out before they run out of air, but the employees just stand there stonily. They say I saved one monkey, isn't that enough? I scream at them, no! but they gaze at me with their hard eyes and I see there is no hope.
I crouch in a corner, saddened and infuriated at the loss of life. I cannot tear my gaze away from the bubble as the monkeys run out of oxygen and slowly collapse.

The owner of the park is equally saddened by the loss. She says oftentimes she wishes the waters will not come, but then - she opens the front door and shows me the destroyed jungle, covered in a fine layer of snow - this happens, and she wishes she had not wished such things. I stand in her garage, trying to understand. She wraps her thin bathrobe sadly about her and turns to go back inside.

The Most Exciting Dream EVER

I am with a group of people, doing some mundane activity like grocery shopping. There is something stuck in my teeth, so I turn to a friend and ask, "Would you happen to have any dental floss?" Somewhat reluctantly, they pull out a roll of floss and break of a piece for me. I floss with great satisfaction. The other group members are startled when they notice what I am doing.

Lots of the Same Things

Driving down to the bay, we pass through acres of rhodedendron farms. The lavender blossoms cover the California hills. My aunt explains that this area is renowned for its rhodies.

Our boat sinks just as we reach the hotel. The musical is just getting over, the audience is filtering out, waved through the doors by sparkly, lavender, anorexic ballerinas.

We browse nonchalantly through a bunch of CD racks in the video store, while our agents prepare themselves in the back room. I stick my head through the door to see how the debriefing is going. My mother watches the front door for suspicious-looking people.


My family, refugees from a war-torn metropolitan life, arrive at a camp in an icy plain. We sit down to eat our first full meal in months, but finding the food not to my taste, I leave the table to explore. I meet with an old gypsy woman and she gives me some sort of voodoo talisman to avoid my impending arranged marriage.

The magic takes on a life of its own and ruins everything.

And the Award for Wierdest Section Goes To...

The entire French Horn section pushes a row of roller coaster seats to behind a curtain, where they are being organized for our Disneyland performance. We sit down. I try to organize my music. Matt Perry has obtained a Playboy magazine and is flipping through it, obviously delighted. I tell him he needs a girlfriend. Cindy substitutes the word "men" for the word "genies" in one of her sentences, and I realize she must be Indian. I didn't know that the word "genie" was punjab for "man." Sarah Davis looks at me as if I am insane.

Earning My Way

There is a party at my "house" that somehow involves me working and running errands, such as going to the bank.

-

I emerge out of a forest onto a two lane road with a field on the other side. I am dehydrated and utterly exhausted physically and emotionally. I stagger over to the bus stop on the other side of the road, accidentally stumbling into the ditch. I need to get away from that forest as fast as possible, but when I check the schedule the only buses coming are the Community Transit 8--s, which will not take me home and cost more than the 15-odd cents I have in my pocket. This being a life-and-death situation, I choose to throw myself at the feet of the billionaire living at the nearby mansion in hopes that he will give me a job and I can earn enough money to eventually take the bus home. I know however, that this is hoping for a little too much, because poor people like me can never just earn money from rich people like him. According to the rules, I will essentially be required to sign my body and soul away for a year before getting my payment in the end... if I'm lucky.

I ring the doorbell and somehow convince his footman to let me speak to the master. The man who comes to the door is a sweet, kindly gentleman, who has to pry himself away from the adoring orphan boys he has rescued to talk to me.

"Please sir, " I begin, "I was wondering is you might have any positions available, you see, I am in desperate need..."
The man looks uneasy and his footman cuts in, "We have no positions now. Go home."
I think of the forest I just come from and feel an intense fear, though I cannot recall exactly what I fear so much. I cut the footman off somewhat forcefully and say, "I just spent a month in that forest with my brother and he didn't make it out-"
The old man stops me and says, "Come in, I'm sure we can find something for you to do."
I step inside the marble-floored mansion, filled with leafy plants, light, and playful young boys. As I change into new clothes and an apron, I feel a sadness when I think of my separation from my own family, as well as something like guilt at the mysterious loss of my brother, and confusion about my situation in the house in relation to the other orphans. Why wasn't I taken in as this man's child? Was it because I asked for work to begin with, and not care?

Old Flames

Ian has a large European nose and a paltry grade point average. The former is true in "reality" and the latter is objectionable, that is, if you are Ian. The two of us are running together in my backyard, suddenly the size of Ravenna park, with small landslides and a profusion of smokey cobwebs. We talk of many things, mainly about why he and I should not date, but for my part, "the lady doth protest to much" and Ian kept giving me that wry smile which said, "take this as a joke or seriously, I'm content to flirt." Kiri was dancing with a group of Japanese foreign exchange students in the distance, and we both wanted to meet them but Ian kept exclaiming, "When will I see you again!?" In reply to which I would look at him all quizzical-warm-like and say, "When will you be coming back?" I was writing a book, he was gallivanting about. We met again on a wrought iron spiral staircase.

Impressive and Ever-So-Useful Powers

I sing, "The Same Fire" to Alex, but he is unresponsive. Instead I have just set Shorewood Elementary on fire. I feel guilty about the Ficus, since they have been thriving recently.

I am back at Burien Dance, in pointe class. Bridgette seems to have trouble remembering her choreography for our dance, and when she does it is terrible. We waltz diagonally across the floor for at least twelve counts, and collide into a can can line.
Class ends, and I go out to the lobby. Ginny, a girl I used to dance with is there waiting for the next class, and she asks me, "Are you ever going to come visit my Grandma's furniture liquidation business? It's right in the middle of the U-District!" I say yes, of course I'll come, because it seems really important to her, and ask for directions on how to get there. Of course, she has no idea because she doesn't know the area, so I ask for cross streets or an address. She can't give me either of them, so I end up flying over the area and setting down on 15th and 43rd, near the bookstore.
The furniture liquidation business actually turns out to be a protective shelter for some magical giraffe's that are threatened by some grumpy dinosaurs roaming the area. The dinosaurs are on a rampage, and I have to act as peacemaker, but in order to communicate with either group I have to become an animal, as small and nonthreatening as possible. The natural answer, of coarse, is a squirrel. I find a shed and sit down to concentrate on my transformation, with my dragonfly friend as a lookout. Beginning takes me longer than usual, but at last I am able to concentrate on my squirrel thoughts and I begin to shrink. When I judge I am small and furry enough I scamper out of the shed and over to the giraffe shelter, oping I won't have to go through that process again.

Another Barefoot in Public Bathroom Dream

The rules state that I must shower first, so I wander through the complex maze of the locker room until I find a relatively uncrowded shower. I set all my things down and turn around to shower, but when I turn back they have all been taken. I am not concerned about my clothes (if they are missing), but rather about the top-secret diagrams. I ask my mother to help me look recover them, but she is missing too. I walk back out of the locker room, now all too aware of the grimy wet floor, until I find the lifeguard. He reminds me of an older Mr. Wallis, or other vice principal-like figure, and I tell him of the theft. He makes me lead him back to the scene of the crime, where he discovers nothing and makes insincere promises and mutters about paperwork.
Obviously, my only hope for recovering the plans is Roderick. I take a walk around the block with him, and by the time we get back to the starting point, we almost kiss. o_O

I am in a fancy new building with glass walls and doors, along with about seven other people, including my brother. Finally, we convince the security guard that we really want to be locked in for the night, and he leaves. We all shiver in anticipation of the event that is about to happen after months of waiting. Our research has come down to these final few minutes, indicated my a large digital timer with red numbers on the wall in front of us. We take our places: I stand in an alcove in the glass wall, leaning as far forward as I can against a glass door, looking to the left. Two other people crowd in an alcove to my right, but I have a better view. One woman is actually in the room my door leads to, and she presses her nose against the glass wall on the left side of that room, peering intently into the room the actual event will take place in.
One minute is left, and I can see motion at the far end of that room, but the woman is blocking my view. Some apparatus with wheels is slowly rolling backwards with a great effort against some resisting force. I shuffle forward a few inches, wishing I could get into the next room. Then I try the handle of the door. It turns. I push it and step forward, and an alarm goes off! All of the lights shut off!

Bunnies in the moonlight!

I am in a very strange world (same physical properties, completely different ethos) when I make friends with a midget. We both went to school in the same castle, which looked a bit like Suzzallo but with real marble. One day I am at the midget's cave, which not surprisingly is midget-sized, such that I must squat considerably to walk around. We decide to go shopping together, and so we head out to the local open air mall. There we find a stall selling small stuffed animals. I am captured by the rows of pink ducks, blue bears, pandas and bunnies. I like the bunnies in particular, so the midget buys me a few, which was very nice of him. And as the man is packaging up the bunnies in a brown paper bag, I get the sense that these bunnies were once alive, not in a "taxidermied" sense, but by some sort of transmutational trick. This sentiment is shared by the midget, but we say nothing.

Heading back toward the midget's cave, we take a detour to an acquaintance's house; she breeds bunnies while not attending school with us. Why the midget wanted to go here I am not sure, but I notice at the end of the trip, the acquaintance's bunnies are fewer in number.

Back at the midget's cave, it grows late and I decide it is too dark to head home so we end up having a sleep over. We sleep on the floor of an even shorter cave with one window, the bag of bunnies rest between us. Now the midget reveals that he is in fact a magical midget! I can't sleep yet because when the moonlight hits the brown paper bag, all the bunnies will become real rabbits! And so I wait. As it turns out, the midget was right, but the live bunnies couldn't last forever. I let them fall asleep on me as I doze off. In the morning, I look for the bunnies but find that they are no longer asleep on top of me. Inside the bag the bunnies have turned into french fries! This does not bother the midget and I, so we make a lunch of these french fries. The larger french fries we do not eat, because presumably these are the stolen bunnies that were alive in the first place.

The next day, the midget and I are by a pond with the paper bag. We throw the remaining french fries into the pond - which looked like Monet's, the one with the water lilies. From the water spouts a metallic contraption, it is rather architectural and very tall. At the other side of the pond our acquaintance grows angry. She knows that we have stolen her bunnies and so she throws a bunny onto the ground where it begins drawing the metallic parts to it through some act of animal magnetism, pardon my pun. All the metal parts join up to form a gigantic robot bunny with a large saw attached to its arm. The bunny starts the saw and begins to chase us with its fierce rotating blade.