Intruding

I sit in a crowded room with many other students. Our TA directs us to pick out our favorite shoe from our box. My box is filled with really ugly shoes, and I have a hard time finding something that is not a loafer. Finally I pull out the only colorful thing, a Pepto-Bismol colored pump with a bow on the toe. We go around the circle telling why we picked out shoe and I have a hard time explaining, "Well, I like the color, even though I really don't like wearing pink..." My TA takes the shoe and pulls the heel off, showing me that it converts into a flat. I like it even less now, and I say so, putting the heel back on, and realize how uncomfortable it would be to walk in a convertible shoe.

Now the class, which includes some people I know, has moved to a very messy house. While it wasn't us who messed it up, I feel like we should at least pick up, and the first task is to locate all of the portable phones. I find three out of the four; the last one has run out of batteries, so I decide to just clean up the rest of the house until I find it. Some of the walls are Chinese paper screens. I keep finding dirty dishes and bringing them to the sink for the dishwashing team to clean. As I bring the last, large pile of dishes, a car pulls up in the wooded driveway, and three people get out. Suddenly I realize this is Kris' grandparents' cabin (although arranged completely differently), and they're about to find me in the middle of their trashed house. We frantically wash the last dishes, but can't finish as Kris' great aunt comes in the house. His grandma is next, and pulls me into a hug, saying, "I'm so glad you came back like you said you would!" (This is true. In reality, the last time I saw his grandparents at the cabin his grandma said I should come back and I said I would.) His grandpa says, "I'm glad you took us up on the offer!... and you left a few dirty dishes, didn't you?" He chuckles, but I am incredibly embarrassed about the mysterious mess, and I leave very soon after.

I walk down a street that resembles the intersection of Delridge in front of my parents' shop, but in London/West Seattle instead of White Center. On one side fo the street is my grandma's old house. A few of my friends and I ave been sent on a mission, I think to open the door when the trick-or-treaters come, even though some filmmaker lives there now. We crawl conspicuously through the front yard, which has been trimmed of its nice hedges, and narrowly avoid some cobwebs getting through the shed into the backyard. We go in through the back sliding door and creep around silently. I get to the den, hear the television and see the silhouettes of children through the crack in the door, and finally feel like I shouldn't be there. I try to find my followers and silently tell them we need to leave, when the front door starts to open. "Abort! Abort!" I whisper, and fall through the floor into the garage.

Guilt and Rats

The transition from sunny, sandy beach to the gloom of this sewer messes with my eyes. Once I have adjusted to the dark, I find myself crawling through at least six inches of liquid refuse. Around me are thousands of cranes, glaring at me for intruding on their last sanctuary. I understand that if I want to save their dying population, I must locate the source of parasites and disease into the sewers.
I crawl around some sort of buttress and begin to clamber up a metal ladder. Upon reaching the top, I find myself face to face with a very large rat. He must be the reason the cranes are all dying! I snatch up a book and try to smash the rat, but it scampers deftly away. I pause and open the book. On the back cover there is a picture of the very same rat - I realize that this rat was previously a well-renowned author. Upon becoming a rat his books no longer sold, and he banished himself to this sewer. Still, I must eliminate him. I chase it around the narrow upper lip of the sewer, where it meets ground level and there is a long, low window. Glancing out, I see a mob of people, who seem to be incensed at me. It seems they think that I am responsible for the death of the hamster. The rat suddenly becomes very vicious, and turns to bite me. Dodging, I slip off the ledge and begin to fall towards the slime that is crane poop and general death. I flip open the book and begin to read, knowing it will slow my descent. As I am hurtling towards my doom, my parents and sister appear from a spiral staircase and begin to chastise me for killing the hamster. I tell them it wasn't me, it was this fucking rat! It appears from the wall and begins to charge towards me. My family doesn't believe it is evil and does nothing to intercept it. By this point I am somewhat frantically irritated. My alarm wakes me and I find myself extremely pissed off at rats in general, for putting all the blame on me and then trying to kill me.

Doom and General Incompetency

My sister skateboards down our driveway into the garage. It is warm and sunny outside, though exceedingly clear, like a winter day. I want to learn to skate, so she hops off and I change the music in the CD player. Though it's not on the CD I insert, The Decemberist's "Oceanside" comes on. I can hear more clearly than ever before the chord structure and strumming patterns, as if the crisp air aids the sound waves on their way to my ear. I realize that for too long, I have been attempting to play this song incorrectly. I will never amount to the musician I should. After aa few minutes spent putting one foot on the skateboard and promptly falling off, I go back inside.

We file into a dimly lit movie theater. Someone inside tells us the movie will not be starting until an hour later, and this is definitely not okay with me. My friends sit down to wait patiently, but I leave again.

Anne Bertucio has left me a note that says "SNACKS." I realize that I was supposed to be organizing the food for the floor meeting that is convening in a matter of minutes. As people begin to gather, I have to tell them that I failed in my food mission. I think to myself that it's because I only just got the note, but in my subconscious I know that it really is my fault.

I have been jettisoned into space with several nuclear missiles. I see that I am drifting towards a glowing orb, which I soon come to realize is the sun. It is my mission to destroy it before it engulfs the earth. I fire several missiles into its center, but nothing happens. The fiery mass grows larger and larger, and I know that soon I will be incinerated. Before this, in an attempt to document my experiences before it's too late, it tell ground control that space is awesome. Like hot dogs. I brace myself for the searing pain, and as the heat increases, I bring a book of instructions up to cover my eyes. Nothing happens. Bringing the book down again, I find I have somehow been turned around and am heading away from the Sun. I rejoice. A book has once again saved my life.

"Caramel Macchiato"

Tom Cruise comes into Solstice during a rush, and his assistant tells us, "Mr. Cruise would like a double short caramel macchiato with extra vanilla and whipped cream in a paper cup". I am working with my boss, Doug, and he and I roll our eyes at each other. I am so tempted to make him a real macchiato, but we are in a hurry, so Doug pulls my some shots while I add the caramel sauce and vanilla. When I pour in the shots I realize how absurd this order is, because there is less than an inch of room left for milk. I shudder in disgust.

Unwanted Haircut

Walking down the street in a slightly older, rundown, semi-industrial residential area, I come across a storefront that draws me in when I see some clothing I recognize as my sister and Maresa's designs in the window. Curious, I go in to ask where they got the clothes from, as my sister has been in South Africa and not making clothes for months. Once inside, I see that it is a very hip hair salon with white painted brick walls, furniture made out of crates and such. I start to ask where they got the Red Llama clothing, but one girl comes up and starts touching my hair, without speaking suggesting that I must sit through a consultation before I get any answers. This is fine with me, I was thinking about getting my hair cut anyway, but she ignores me when I try to tell her what I am looking for, and begins to tell me what I should do with it. I tell her that I actually want to go back to the salon I went to before, because I like the girl who cut my hair at Vain, but when I look in the mirror again, she has already finished cutting and stying my hair.
It is longer than the hair I came in with, and I have funny bangs, but it is well done, and I know I look effortlessly hip. Certainly, I am very happy to have gotten an awesome haircut, it's just not what I wanted. It's too stylishly frumpy 80's for my taste . I tell the girl repeatedly how nice it is, avoiding her question of whether I like it, and try to press on to my original question of where they got the clothing. Nothing I say gets through.
The girl who cut my hair tells the receptionist to give me a reduced rate. I see the receptionist write down $30 on a receipt. I get excited, but then the stylist continues, "Let's say, one-third off, so $150. I laugh at her, in a way that says, "I see right through your plan, but I'll go along because I was stupid enough to get trapped into this". But as soon as the stylist turns around the receptionist changes it to $50, with an $11 tip. This is extremely generous, I feel, since we both know the haircut should only have cost $30. I pay anyway and leave, trying to like my new, very nice haircut.
Outside I find myself on Delridge Way, near the Cooper School.

Who can take a joke?

Two friends decide to go hang gliding off of a steep hill at the end of summer. Their kite-device does not stay aloft and lands of the edge of a very steep cliff. One friend rescues the other from certain death.
On the way back up the hill on friend decides they should pick a leader. The other friend agrees and says the leader should be the cleverest one, hinting that this would not be the one that crashed the kite. The other friend agrees and says that the cleverest one would also be the one who could take a joke and something else very clever and wouldn't the first friend have gotten that joke if he were the cleverest one?
This joke is accompanied by the image of five or six very large-scale AA batteries surrounding a four-legged animal representing the first friend, probably an ass, with two on each side, positive end up, and the last battery coming up to the shocked animal and tapping it gently on the nose with its positive end. The ass had a negative charge.

New Games

A large group of people play hide and seek in a complex of beautiful old buildings. I find my way into the uppermost bedroom, accessible only by ladder, intending to rest there for a while and enjoy the view out the window. I can see everyone in the courtyard below sneaking around. I don't stay long, though. I think I decide that I have to keep playing the game in order for it to be fun.


On the 120 from Burien to White Center, 116th is blocked by police cars. There are people in the street, protesting. Eventually the bus finds a way around and I get off. Later I explain to someone how remarkable the scene was, how the People formed and line and marched toward the Swiss National Guard with the metal pedestrian fences from a construction site. The Swiss National Guard pulled out their guns, but the people refused to back down, then the King County Police department arrived, blocked off the streets, and did nothing to improve the situation.

There is a long line for ice cream in the town that should be deserted. I am determined to order as efficiently as possible, but when I get to the front of the line, The woman shoos me off to the correct cashier. I hurry out and down the street, rushing to someone I know will soon have a confrontation and need help.
I support someone as we hobble down an alley in the town that should be deserted. Then I am that person. When my supporter goes ahead to look for the safe haven, they place me face-up on the ground, and I tell myself it is alright to lay in the street, because I can't move anyway.

How Inappropriate

It is someone's birthday party, and we wander in from the streets to a darkened room. Before a get much of a chance to look around, Kathryn exclaims, "I know, let's go swimming!" I think, "Great!" and when I turn around, everyone has started to climb into the bathtubs of varying shapes and sizes that line one wall, on tiers. Kathryn has taken off her pants already (and is wearing some modest black briefs underneath), and climbed into the highest tub already. I look around and everyone else has started climbing into the remaining tubs, still clothed. Groggily, I stand there wondering what to do, and it finally hits me that everyone is going to have to take off all of their clothes eventually. I go, "No... no, this is really inappropriate..." trying to remember what underwear I am wearing.
A boy about fifteen years old catches my eye as he passes by. I start up a conversation, trying to avoid seeing all of my friends taking off their clothes. Then I find myself kissing the boy. (AGH! How disturbing is that.) When I look over to the bathtubs everyone has fallen conveniently asleep. Then we fall asleep on the floor.
When the boy and I wake up, everyone else is still alseep, so he whispers to me that we should go get coffee at a cafe he knows of in the Faubourg something-or-other, just around the cover. This doesn't make sense to me because we are on the Ile-St.-Louis, and I thought all the Faubourgs were on the west edge of Paris. He gives me directions and I start to follow them. For some reason he does not come with.
I am surprised when the directions he gave me lead to real places, because all of the street names were Italian. Eventually I come out on top of Montmartre (this does not make sense, given the direction I was travelling), into a cirlular place (une place, not a place) with a large sculpture in the center that I have never seen before. It is covered with black grime, but I can tell that it was carved from bright white stone. As I get closer, I get the chilling sense that it represents something terrible.

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.

Art

Kathryn and I board a spiral contraption sitting on the surface of a river. It is dull red cylinder enclosing a spiral staircase that descends into the interior of the contraption. There are other people inside who come up and crowd the staircase as we try to get on. Then it twists down into the water. I expect water to come pouring in from above, but when you cannot see the sky, the water cannot get to you.
The machine transports us down the river a ways, then reemerges. I climb to the top and make some remarks. Then it descends again.

Later, in the modern art museum I surprise a man after a suspended look and kiss his behind a glass wall. I am surprised that I did not notice his unshaven face in the seconds before, and he is a terrible kisser.

Return home from the mission

It is the beginning of the horror movie when all of the characters first meet as they assemble for some common cause, preparing for a seemingly innocent mission into a dangerous place. In this case we are art history students and we have to go on a mission to the unexplored end of the catacombs of Paris, where no one has been for centuries. I lead the group into the tunnel, knowing that we must procede slowly, according to the horror movie formula. However, the dumb blondes get overly enthusiastic just as I make a remark about the halfway point indicated on the ground, and they rush ahead. Of course, chaos erupts and we are all sprinting back towards the entrance of the tunnel as two of our team members are eaten. I make a mental note of what a horrible horror movie this is making, as we are not even ten minutes in and two people have amready been very predictably eaten in a cave that isn't very scary.

From the cave, I emerge out of my parents' bathroom into the waiting reception of family members milling about in the bedroom. I tell them that regrettably, I am not back for good, our work just got further delayed by the accident.

I arrive back at my apartment, and have never been happier to see it. Somehow it has expanded and acquired a lot more light switches and walls. I walk through, gleefully testing all of the switches. My brother pokes his head out from behind a curtain that presumably leads to the kitchen, as a could of steam billows out as well. He is helping me prepare a luncheon for all of my family, who are going to come and welcome me home again. The carrots may not be done in time.

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.