Directions, breasts and garlic

In the first sequence, I am arguing with my younger brother and one of my older female friends. We are debating hand written directions; my friend and brother are seeing the words in very different ways. When I look at the page I see the words, "Jarvis" and "Seraphina", but they see completely different words. I assume that they are wrong because I recall these street names in my mind--I recall driving these streets in my recent past.
My friend suddenly grows upset. She tells me she is embarrassed by her legs because they look and smell like garlic. She tells me that she takes too many garlic supplements for some health reason. I tell her that I have some garlic medication that might help her.
In the next sequence I am fielding emails from would-be employers. In one a man sends back a one-liner about my "tits". I turn to my husband and say, "Well, I ain't working there!" He agrees.
Later, I am in an apartment that I don't recognize. One of my female cousins is there; she seems inebriated. She carries a wine glass around and tells me that it is a candy cane drink in it, but she is slurring her words and she looks quite disheveled. I become annoyed with her when she places her glass sloppily on me and my husband's desk. She laughs. I am dressed in a long gown and my hair is wavy--half up and half down. The dress is weird--like something an older woman would wear, but it fits me nicely. As I study my reflection I realize my belly---I have a small pregnant belly. I place my hand on and view it from the side--I must only be a few months because it is defined but small.

the scary dream that comes back every time you fall asleep again

The first is creepy: I am in a bed, not my own, and a youngish guy gets in with me. He is heavyset and creepy (not that heavyset folks are creepy, he just happened to be both). I fall asleep and he begins touching me. My stomach turns. I get out of the bed and his parents come in to rescue me. They seem like nice people; they have trustworthy faces, or so I believe.

They tell me that I can sleep with them. We all slide into bed and I feel safe. At some point though the father begins to touch me, and I freak out. The mother freaks out too and she reveals to me that her son has touched her too. I am disgusted and confused. I feel betrayed by the father who pretended to be caring.

Next scene: I am in a big, old house with my husband and our dog and friends and family. We are preparing for what I believe is a Halloween party because there are costumes lying around the rooms and the decorations are a bit dark. On one side of a big wooden staircase a young guy is setting up some kind of contraption---he is the first to be killed and the people around me don't seem overly scared or worried about the situation. Suddenly though a woman's scream causes alarm. One of my female cousins is shrieking and pointing at our dog. She keeps blubbering about her "sister". Our dog hops up on the old couch and we can see she has something in her mouth. Beneath the cushion and behind the couch I notice coffins that have been opened and rummaged through. The dog has a dead baby in her mouth---my cousin's sister who died in 1976. Someone grabs the baby and our dog runs away.

Meanwhile, other party-goers are turning up dead. I decide to get out while I can. I call for my husband but he is nowhere to be found. In the kitchen the back door is open and I run through it; I call to our dog and she starts to come, but then turns around and decides to stay. I run from the wooded yard to the sidewalk. The neighborhood seems quiet, but I don't run to any of the neighboring houses fearful that they may be involved, or that the murderer is lurking in one of their homes. Even though I haven't been harmed I have the strange sense that I am the intended target to terrify. I walk briskly down the street. I see a police SUV turning onto the street, and though I want to call out I am still wary. I let him pass and watch as he pulls into a parking garage of sorts. Another police man drives by, and he too pulls into the garage. I figure that is a safe place to go for help.

I make my way to the mouth of the garage and find that it is under a hospital. With a group of workers I enter the building following their lead. As we step onto an elevator I realize I need to go in another direction to reach the police. I jump off before the doors close and pass through a set of doors that lead to locker room scene. Each area is closed off for a different group of workers: police, medics, firemen, etc. Their areas have swinging doors to them with small plastic windows. I look through the first and see a group of policemen in various states of resting and I walk in.

They are surprised by my appearance. I look into their faces and they seem trustworthy. They are mostly older men with bright blue eyes, but the one who approaches me first is younger and has olive skin and dark eyes; his nose is wide and seems flattened--like he's been in a few fights. He asks me what's wrong, and I make sure to remain calm because I know my story sounds unbelievable. I tell him about the dead baby and the people being killed. He listens patiently.

unravel the details

I am in a city that I don't recognize. My cousin's store has moved to this city, so I assume I am there to see her. The street is wide; there's a gas station across the street and a tall tenement building on the side of the street where I am. There are lots of trees. I walk to her store. When I get there I remember that she recently told me that she emptied her front room; I think she is renovating. When I walk in I am stunned that the place is a mess. The front room has nothing but ladders and dry wall torn down in it. In another, smaller, room there is trash on the floor and two baskets on the floor with unfolded sweat pants (hot pink) in the them. I'm confused.

I am in the store and a woman comes up to me with three frilly tank tops for girls. She mentions that they are some fancy brand (Christian Dior?), but there are no price tags on them. I have no idea how to price such things and look for my cousin to ask her, but she is gone. I am walking through the store with a tank top in hand wondering where the hell she went. The woman leaves, and later my cousin returns. She seems "off" and I ask her what's up. She tells me that she is more focused on her second (night) job. I don't ask too many questions because she seems somewhat secretive. She only drops hints about "training" and that it's a sexy job. She tells me the work takes place in a basement. I'm alarmed.
---
I am taken to a large home; I am being offered the property as a rental. The furnishings are beautiful with the exception of a few pleather pieces. The house is sprawling and the back side is all windows that look at onto cliffs or dunes---they are close enough to touch if you open the large (floor to ceiling) windows. At the back end of one of the sitting rooms there is a class door; I pull it open and there are wooden steps that lead down a slope. The cliff wall, or dune wall, is close enough to touch, and I do. I walk to the bottom of the steps and it's like a secret city. On my right there is a canal, and there are other homes along it. To my left the cliff/dune recedes and I can see a small beach and the ocean is lapping up the beach. I can walk to the beach by simply hopping over the rocks. It is quiet and peaceful; everything has a rock-gray color to it and a sleepy feeling.

Suddenly I notice a group of kids and they are rollicky and laughing. When they see me I can sense they are curious of this stranger. They grow snippy and seem afraid of my arm. I half kid, half mock them and show them my arm more closely. They follow me up the stairs to my house, but I don't want them to come inside. I stand in the doorway, and they ask me questions. A man appears in the house behind me. He looks like a tired musician. His hair is wild and black; his beard is days old. I don't recognize him, but the kids seem to.

Life's a beach!

I am on a beach with people I don't recognize, but I think my husband is nearby. We are playing a game--sorta like catch. People are throwing rocks up at the/into the sky and other people are catching them. I am nervous and covering my head. I run around the beach and find some large rocks that have been thrown: one is gold and one is silver; they are the smoothest rocks I have ever felt. A player comes up to me and says that people can't throw rocks like that because someone will get hurt. I agree and continue to admire the lovely gem-like rocks.

---
In the garage of the house I grew up in. My father's current wife is there with her three daughters. She asks me to pose for pictures with them. Suddenly I have a false memory of wedding photos with these girls and I wonder where the photographs have been hiding.

---
I am being ogled by men who I went to high school with. One guy keeps telling people that he is going to get me pregnant. I see a guy who I like and he is leading a group of kids through a museum. I begin to try to catch up with him. He sees me as I walk through the door, and waits just enough time to let me notice him, then he begins leading the children up a huge hill. I begin walking up the hill and my feet feel leaden---it takes all of my energy to make it up the hill, but I do. At the top, the guy takes me to a bookstore in the neighborhood and I help set up the books.

nightmare

my husband and I are living in the house I lived in as a teen. We have my old bedroom even. It is night and I'm not aware of anyone else living in the house with us. My husband comes from the bathroom after readying for bed. The room is dark; just as he begins to climb into bed we hear a low, dying doorbell. It's so late and so dark that we decide to ignore it. We don't hear it again. In the middle of the night I decide to get us up to investigate. We walk from bedroom to bedroom and each is cluttered beyond belief, and---yet again---the light bulbs are burned out. We make our way to the ground floor and we find that the front door is cracked open---I am terrified thinking that someone may be hiding, lurking in the house. We stick close together and start in towards the living room--the room is dark.

disturbia

a hybrid of my childhood home and the house we moved to when I was a teen...I am in the backseat of a car with two of my siblings; in the front is my mom and her abusive ex boyfriend. I am stupefied that she is back with him. I don't know where we are going, but I want out. I pretend to fall sick, and even go so far as to fake vomit into my hand. My little brother is asleep beside me. We get to the house and I find that none of the light bulbs work. I can only find one lamp that provides illumination. I find my mom curled up on a bed in what was once my bedroom with my older sister. She is looking for a phone number; I tell her we have to fix the lights and get the jerk out of our lives. Once I appear determined to get to work she sets her number book down and seems to decide that she'll let me take care of matters. I am disgusted. I go to work though and decide that I am leaving as soon as I finish; if she screws up at that point it's all her problem.

Mayan village

I am walking through a Mayan village; I don't know how I know that it is a Mayan village, but somehow I do. I walk through this village only moments after all of its people have disappeared. The road is rocky and I feel like I am in a cave. I look into people's "homes" and see the things they left behind, the tasks they were in the middle of when they disappeared. Clothes are scattered; there is a bundle of money; there are dishes left in the soapy water of sinks. The only living creatures left are dogs and cats. I rummage for food to feed them. I enter a darker cave-like home and see something moving out of the corner of my eye. A dog or hog is starving, and looks like it might collapse at any moment. I don't know whether I should try to spare this animal, or save the little bit of food for the stronger animals.

The scene changes and I am sidetracked from my walk in the village by a hotel bar. My cousin is working there and she asks me to hang out. There is a show on stage, singers and dancers. The gentleman who owns the bar wants me to work for him; I'm uncomfortable about working there, but I like the dark wood of the bar.

rain and road

I am driving down the turnpike; I am looking to get to the WG mall. I take an exit that does not look familiar even though the signs point in that direction. The rain starts falling. I am driving on a wooded winding road. There are large stone homes on either side of the road, and a divide of grass and trees down the middle of the road. My windows are so overcome with drizzle and the wipers won't clear them. I can barely see and I am growing nervous. I stop the car and open the door. I step out of the car to get a better look at the road. I'm not sure which direction to travel though I have turned the car around to head back from where I came.

two nights ago, last night

Two nights ago: all I remember is that I was lying in a hospital bed and covered up to my chin with a sheet or blanket. A young male comes in, who I think might be my young brother. He begins punching my head---he doesn't hit my face, but my forehead and skull. He continues to punch away.

Last night:
I am with an old acquaintance and she is being kind to me after two years of ignoring me. She tells me that she has missed me. We are standing in our old workplace. There is no one else around. The scene shifts and I am in a large outdoor shopping center. The stores are out-of-doors and they are sprawling. There is a grocer, a home repair center, furniture, etc. I am lost among all of the goods. I am not sure whether I am looking, or hiding from, the people I came with. I keep moving further and further away from my starting point, and deeper into the dense center of these stores.

city

I am with my girlfriend, AK. We are going out in the city; she wants to introduce me to rich friends of hers. On our way out she says she needs two tampons; I reach into my bag and have one, but don't want to give it to her because I need it. She says she will be back and goes to get one in another building. I look out the window and it is night. Tiny lights are on all around the city and it looks like an open jewelry box. I wait for my friend to return. Hours pass.
I make my way through the city and enter a party. The scene shifts and there are groups of people whispering to one another. No one seems to know me, or want to know me. I make my way to the end of the party area and soon I am being fitted for a wedding gown. It is my *first* wedding. There are tons of people gathered in a beautiful garden. A veil is placed on my head, and I begin to walk down the aisle with my father. My "husband" is not my real husband, but a big guy in a sloppy suit. Almost as soon as the nuptials are complete I am back at the dressing area and being prepared for my next wedding. Whereas the first dress was very traditional, this dress is short and puffy. I am told that I am a beautiful bride, and I think to myself, this time or the last time? Someone tells me that my first marriage lasted ten years, this one will last six. I walk down the aisle with a girldfriend this time. As soon as the nuptials are over, again, I am back getting ready for my third wedding. This time I walk down the aisle alone; no one tells me how long this marriage will last.

cancer

I visit my younger brother and mother. They are huddled and something seems off. When I approach them they are just getting off of the phone, and their eyes are wide and wet. They tell me that one of my older brothers has cancer...cancer of the heart. I ask what the prognosis is and they tell me there is no operation to save him. I say that there are heart transplants, but they ignore the idea. I am heartbroken to think we will lose another family member so soon after our sister's death.
People start showing up at the house. Family and friends of the family. I take a walk. The neighborhood is one that I don't recognize. I meet a group of kids getting off of a school bus and they make me laugh. Then I hear that my aunts want to talk with me. I make my way back to the house. On my way there I get a message that the actors who I recently worked with (?) want to see me also. I go inside the house and there is one of my aunts with her boyfriend. My mom's spirits are lifted because they have brought her a "chair". The chair is more like a large ottoman. It is a soft green velvety-material and it is shaped like two hearts connecting at their points. My mom has a second one nearly identical to it. Everyone gets a kick out of this.
I take a call from Jeff Bridges. He consoles me about my sick brother and talks to me for a while about patience and love. I can't remember all of his words, but at one point I think to myself that he sounds uncomfortable. On my way back to the house I see my mom's friend RJ. I haven't seen or talked to her in a few years when I told her exactly what I thought of her...she enters the house gingerly. I smile and continue to my other aunt who wants to take a walk with me.

cousin's babe

A cousin's wife, on my father's side, loses a young son. He is three, and he dies inexplicably. Time has passed and people are gathered on bleachers for a memorial. I am sitting at the top of the bleachers and I can see everyone. Many of the people gathered are young girls--early teens. They turn their heads and look up at me and ask how I knew the young boy. I peg my relation. The memorial is very low key.

The scene changes and I am on vacation with my husband. We are in a beachy resort. We are readying to board a ship that will take us to a remote island. I check, and double-check, to make sure I have what's important for the trip. In a small zippered space at the front of my billowy smock over my swimsuit, I carry: cash, ID, lip gloss and our hotel room key. We board and the ship is like we never left land; it doesn't seem like the ship is sailing on water -- I don't see water at all. I look out in the distance and see sand-colored mountain ridges, but no water.

Obama

I am at my mom's old townhouse. It is falling apart, but she has company: Michelle and Barack Obama. I stopped by before catching a plane. The state of the house is upsetting, but we all settle down to watch a movie. The movie has satanic undertones, and there are various sequences that make little sense. As the movie draws to a close Michelle says we have to stop the movie, rewind it and start it again, so that we can catch all the clues along the way. I immediately pipe up that we don't have time to do that. I have a plane to catch and these are my last minutes with my family. She becomes rude, and we begin to argue back and forth. She can't believe I have the gall to treat a guest this way, and I can't believe a guest has the gall to act like such an entitled ass. In the end, I leave the room and the argument. I begin to renovate the house. In the kitchen there are piles of dishes and food. I call in a crew and everything is cleaned up and updated. When I return the cabinets are all white and everything is new. The window dressing, in the window above the sink, is beautiful but put on wrong. I begin to try to unravel one layer of fabric, but the more I unravel, the more confused I become about the purpose of the curtains. They are twisted and jumbled.
I make my way to the powder room on the first floor. I remember that the wallpaper, now old and cracking, was leftover from the VP's own DE bathroom. It is pretty in its soft hues and gentle flower embellishment, but it looks like it is cowering there on the wall. I begin to peel it to reveal the wall beneath.
My old bedroom is transported to an airport gate. I see a ton of people awaiting flights. One person is an old acquaintance, she does her best to ignore me. She moves around frantically arranging and rearranging her luggage.
The scene changes and I am walking, alone, down a windy road. On either side there are deep forests. A car comes up behind me. The passengers remind me of the bad guys in Goonies. They laugh maniacally. Night is coming and I am suddenly scared. There is no place to seek refuge. There is nowhere to hide if anyone should want to hurt me. I find a deep swale not far from the road and I lie down inside it and cover myself with leaves. I pray that no one finds me.

NY, NY

We're living in NYC again, but we're living in my ex's apt. in the East Village. The place is the same bland 300 sq ft, but my husband talks my ex into renovating and just charging us a little more rent for the new version of the apt. We arrange the new apt. and it is lovely, only it's layout and dimensions change along with our new appliances and painted walls.

Paris

We're in Paris again. Only it's a miniature Paris. (maybe because we are thinking about a trip to Montreal?) Everything is awash in fog. The streets are barely visible. I search the skyline for the Eiffel Tower and its light barely twinkles through the dense fog. The lights are the color of moonstone. It is also much smaller. I stand just a few hundred feet from it and it is not overwhelming at all. I walk up stone steps and turn back and the twinkly lights are just barely visible. The streets are crowded with young people laughing and mingling about.

Italia

I am back studying in Italy. No one looks familiar. There are a gaggle of girls getting ready to go out to the clubs, but I am more interested in staring out my window. The city we live in is underwater. People don't swim though, they just walk around as if they are on land, but everything is bluish and blurred like underwater. Someone invites me on a ship ride. Like Venice, people travel by boats and water taxis. I am on a huge ship which I don't like. I can see all the other ships -- there is a traffic jam on the water. This makes me nervous because I have a fear of drowning. I am kind of tense until we park the ship.

Back in our apartment my room mates are still gone -- the place is empty, but there are clothes and make-up thrown about. It's time for me to leave. I am on an escalator with another girl and we are both heading home. Just before we get off the escalator we blow kisses and murmur prayers to a map of Italy on the left wall -- we want to return. At the bottom of the escalator I see my husband; in the airport there are shops and he is in the butcher's. He has three packages of salmon. When we see each other we kiss and embrace and he says that he hopes that I like the salmon.

old friends

I can't remember much but this:
I'm sitting facing a computer thinking about a friend from decades past, NS. My mom appears and tells me I should look her up and call her. I think that that sounds like a good idea, but am not sure how this friend will respond to my reaching out. I find her information online and place the call. Her mother answers the phone; I ask for NS. The mother asks who is calling and I say only my first name as if I'm the only one with that name, but she seems to know who it is.

I don't remember anything else, yet.

party in the pavillion

An uncle rents a large pavillion to hold a celebration. The area is in the thick of an industrial city. There are grills and coolers and different pavillion areas to peruse. All is well until night falls. The hoodlums from the surrounding area start appearing and causing trouble. At first they begin by simply stealing beer and hot dogs, but then the trouble turns brutal. Woman are kidnapped and raped in the back of vans. Young boys and men are brutally beaten. A boxing match is set up where one hoodlum has an electronic arm with which he slams another man's face. The fallen man is covered in blood and he is trying to crawl away, but there is no mercy. A number of us remain hiddden while the toture is occurring. When the hoodlums leave we try to escape but our vehicles are doused with gasoline, battered and set on fire. Our uncle begins making reinforcements to keep us safe in the pavillion. Soon enough the hoodlums return and take note of our reinforced hiding place. They taunt through the tarp-like wall, and when the younger kids squirm at the sound of their cruel voices they cry out, "That sounds like bodies in there!"

The scene changes and I am in a grocery store with RC. He is carrying eggs and three or four bags of chips. We are heading to my mother's house. When we get there everyone is asleep; I fall asleep too. When I wake I read the clock on the VCR and it's 9:54am. I realize we are all very late for school. I think about waking everyone up, but then decide it's already too late. I think back over how many days I may have missed already and realize I didn't go the day before either.

ring and photographs

I am driving in a tiny town. The roads are so skinny that even though they aren't one-way they should be. I stop at a red light in the middle of what seems like will be a clear ribbon of road. On either side of the road is an old stone house. Close to the road. The area reminds me of the English countryside. The car is on a slight incline and I pull past the traffic light dangling from above. It is almost night and the road is glistening after rain. I can't see the traffic light anymore, but a car is approaching from the opposite direction. I continue through the light to make way for the other car. I drive on.

in the next scene I am sitting on a stool with other people who I don't recognize. I am participating in a competition for photographers. The teacher/consultant comes to our table and begins to discuss the first event. As she begins talking my friend, DB, pulls up a stool across from me and distracts me. I miss her speech entirely. She comes over to me first and asks if she can pick my venture. I get the feeling that she thinks I'm physically incapable of completing the task. She suggests that I write about my color choice. I prefer to photograph I tell her. She shows me a spinning display case with various jewelry in numerous colors. She tells me to pick a warm color. I sense that she believes I don't know what "warm" means. I choose a ring that is a slate-ish color. It is subdued and beautiful. She holds it up to the light to show me how complex the coloring is: there are specks of pristine white and hints of coral -- but the majority of the ring slips between slate and gray, and blue. Very soft. She offers me her ring as inspiration. As she hands it to me it drops to the floor under the stool next to me. As I bend my body to reach for it another contestant comes over (he's a guy from high school) as I reach for the ring he places his hand on my bare right shoulder. He mentions how soft my skin is and keeps his hand there. The placement of his hand prevents me from reaching the ring. Before I know it we are picking among the other contestants for our models.

I choose five women. Each woman has long, stark black hair and they are wearing soft purplish-bluish colors. I like the contrasts. I set them up around a large dining table and they begin posing. I ask them to carry on, drinking and eating, naturally. I stalk around the table taking photographs as they enjoy themselves.

I'm nervous because the camera is awkward in hand and I'm not sure that I've pulled off artistic and professional-looking shots.

G-strings and bombs

From a few nights ago:
We are looking for a new apartment. Our friend, DB, tells us his wife can help us find one. We meet her and she takes us down skinny alleys where big trucks grumble and nearly collide. The buildings are brick and tall. The road is rain-slicked. We come to an apartment building and we go inside. JL shows us the bathroom first. She's excited because she renovated the room by installing a new shower curtain rod -- she has moved it further away from the tub. I act like it's nice too, but I don't understand the concept. The bathroom has carpet and seems to tilt to one side. We move into another room and there is a large, deep square box on a table. She tells me that DB told her to buy me a nice gift for $100 at Old Navy. I open it and it is filled with lime green g-strings and burnt sienna sequined tank tops. There are also trial size deodorants. I am grateful, and curious, about this gift.

Last night:
I am with a large crowd. I don't recognize anyone. We are moving from one building to another, and there are subway passages that we travel through. Someone hands me a package and I look inside to find a bomb--the bomb is taken a part though and so it seems like it won't explode. Everyone is panicked. As we begin to move away from the bomb we hear explosions in the distance.

the big house

My husband and I are house-hunting. We come upon a tree-crowded street -- it looks like a page from our dream neighborhood: the houses seem, at least, an acre a part, and the lots are wooded and private. We stand at the foot of the driveway and survey the house: it's a two-story imposing Tudor. It looks gorgeous, but huge. We can't believe we've found this house and it's listed for only $135k.
We make our way inside and the rooms are vast and empty. There are a number of windows, but still each room seems shrouded in shadow.
We don't even make our way through the whole house before we confer with each other that this house is too big and dark for us.
We leave and set out searching some more.

Childhood/fear

I'm in my childhood home alone. I am waiting for someone, anyone to return home. My husband has left and said he would not be home from work until 1am. This upsets me because I don't want to be alone in this house. My younger brother is supposed to be home, but he isn't. I walk from room to room. The place is a disaster. My sister's room is a floor piled high with clothes and trash. I wouldn't be able to tell if someone was hiding in there I think as I scan the mess. My brother's room is a mess. My mother's room has a clear floor, but her bathroom is in non-working order. I catch my reflection in the mirror and the lights flicker out.
I realize I don't have a room here.
From a side window I see my brother with a black man walking down the street---away from our house. I call out to him; I am upset, scared and angry. He walks away faster. I call out to him that he has responsibilities. He becomes very angry and threatens me. He tells me as he enters a skyscraper that I will pay for infringing upon his personal time.
I am very scared now. I go from to window to window and door to door locking them inside the house. I close bedroom doors and set up chairs against the knobs.
The back door in the kitchen is not truly connected to its hinges; I know he could push through it, so I look for large furniture to place in front of the door. I think about the refrigerator, but know that I cannot move it on my own. I make do with a heavy wooden dining table.
I cower in a corner and wait for night to pass.

Creepy

My dream was rather noir-ish last night, and violent---perhaps all this talk of bin laden's death is getting to me.
I am sitting on outside staircase with a group of faceless female friends. My husband arrives and he is a detective. He is looking for a perp. He moves from person to person asking questions about his perp. When he gets to me he kisses me lightly on the mouth, but otherwise remains professional.
The scene changes and I am in a laundromat -- with the perp(s) in the background. I am with two men and I think one is my husband. We are trying to exchange coins in a machine for dollar bills. I get the feeling that the money is stolen and I am confused. There is a lot of money, but we can't get most of it through the machine.
Suddenly the perp comes up behind me and grabs me. He has a gun, but I have my hand on it as well. My husband and his partner are frozen. The perp has a female accomplice and she comes up and drags a long silver wire across my left eye. The perp pulls my face close to him and licks my cheek. My stomach turns. He can feel my hand on the gun and he tells me to turn the return towards him so that the gun will be facing me, ready to fire.
I make a snap decision and wrestle the gun and shoot the woman in the face; I then turn the gun on the main perp and shoot him. When he falls to the ground I am so sickened by him that I shoot him again, this time in the groin.
When I turn to face the rest of the room I am alone.

Laughter

Two, or three nights ago:
I am back at my elementary school. The hallways are a/buzz with students and faculty rushing to classrooms. I wander through the long hall unsure where I belong.
I glance in one classroom and see the smartest girl from my high school class and think out loud, "oh, that is definitely not my class." I continue peering in rooms and by the looks of the students decide it is not the right class for me.
At the end of the hall I see a young woman with a small easel in her hand. There are bright colors popping from the easel. I think that this must be the class for me. She stops me before I enter and asks me if I'm sure this is the class for me. I say yes. She questions me, "Do you like to color and illustrate?" I start to laugh and slyly reply, "I like to color." She asks me what I like to color and I tell her that I usually pick My Little Pony coloring books, although I like the monochromatic hues of The Land Before Time coloring books. I am laughing hysterically and she is clearly offended because she thinks I am belittling her class.
In the front of my mind I am thinking "no wonder I sucked at school--I fit in nowhere." in the back of my mind though the thought passes: "if I could get into a literature or writing class I'd blow their minds."

I woke up at this point laughing. I really thought this was funny, so I woke my husband and was crying while I told him because I was laughing so fiercely.
Now, when I write it down it doesn't seems so funny. Crazy dreams.