I want to throw a party. Bizarrely, instead of holding my fete at my apartment or at Courtney's place, I decide to party at Scott's. This is a bad idea for several reasons. First, everyone who attends has to commute to the party from Madison. Furthermore, Scott lives in a building with many families and children. The music from my party is so loud that we're almost immediately called in to the cops. When the police arrive, I go out in the hallway to talk to them. I'm nervous, as there are several underage drinkers at my party; I don't want them or Scott to get busted. We negotiate a deal, I turn the music down, and the fuzz leaves.

Later in the evening, I hear a knock at the door. When I answer, a gangly, dopey-looking kid nervously says hello and shoves some papers into my hands. He's handed me his resume; he's applying for the opening at my lab, and he somehow tracked me down at Scott's. I have a stern talking-to with this kid and send him packing. Who would track down a prospective employer at 11:30 during a weekend?

I am at work, except for my lab appears to be a mixture of how it actually appears in real life and a touch of my high school's main office complex. I am annoyed, because I would like to get myself off, but I can't get a moment alone. Many people who shouldn't be in my lab are working for us. They are mostly people who I went to high school with, which I find totally maddening. These are individuals who shouldn't ever be working in such an independent, nationally-recognized lab; they are unmotivated, lazy, and ask all the stupid questions (They are not my favorite people from high school, if you haven't caught on.). Although the lab's look and employee composition is different, I apparently am still the go-to-girl for questions, so I find myself surrounded by idiots when I'd just like to have some alone-time.

I finally escape from my pestering coworkers, find a bathroom, and get down to business. Though it was a stressful dream, at least it had a happy ending (pun, sorry).

I am in a Sea World-like aquarium park. Although I've loved visiting places like this since I was a child, I've never been to a aquarium where they keep larger animals, especially mammals. Most people are fascinated with the orcas on site, while I'm much more interested in the dolphins. As they jump and dive, I notice one smaller dolphin in trouble. He slumps listlessly in a shallow area of the tank, and neither the trainers nor the other dolphins have noticed him lying there. Hurdling the barrier between us, I enter the tank and head straight for the incapacitated dolphin. My action does not go unnoticed; though I've obviously broken the rules by joining the animals in their enclosure, I have brought an important issue to the trainers' attention. I exit the tank to resounding applause and am thanked profusely by park officials.

As a result of the incident, the park allows me to come and go as I please, free of charge. I visit my dolphin often, and I realize that, strangely, I am beginning to understand the squeaks he throws my way. I also find that he understands English and can respond to my many questions via his squeaks. I am excited about my new talent but in a strange way, I'm also supremely disappointed. If I tell anyone about this, there's a 90% chance that they'll think I've gone completely insane. However, I am definitely able to confirm that dolphins are an extremely intelligent, if not the most intelligent species on the planet.

As I read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows right up until bedtime last night, I had HP7-related dreams all night. I finished the book today. If you are concerned about encountering spoilers or unbridled nerdiness, please avoid the text below:

1. I dreamt that Hermione was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange. This was a terrible scene, with Ron sobbing over the body and so on. I am very relieved that this didn't happen in the novel.

2. I also dreamt that Harry was a seventh Horcrux, and he had to be martyred in order to defeat Voldemort. Although this snippet ended up being true, the dream differed from the book in several ways. Harry didn't have anything left in him after his murder; he was truly dead. No conversation with Dumbledore, no second chance, nothing.

Because all HP novels are written in a third person limited (to Harry, of course) style, his death changed the feel of narrative quite a bit. There was a switch to third person omniscient. Harry's funeral was a memorable affair, where he was heralded as a savior for his killing of Voldemort via the ultimate sacrifice. There was also a great deal of focus on Ron's reaction to Hermione's and Harry's deaths. They were buried side by side in Godric's Hollow.

This was not a happy ending, but it worked in some ways. Harry and Hermione were remembered as great heroes. Ron's love went unrequited, a far cry from the sunshine and daisies epilogue of the actual book. And the wizarding world was still saved by Harry, though in a far more depressing manner.

I am at my old high school, in the class of a much-loathed teacher. He's about to give us his lesson; this usually consists of his popping a tape about ancient Rome into the VCR and surfing espn.com for the next 50 minutes. (I can thank this jerk-off for everything I know about world history, which is little to nothing.) Instead of starting his lesson, however, he comes over to me with a self-satisfied look on his face. I know this can't be good. He hates me, as I am a freshman in a class of sophomores, and I am the one who usually corrects the factual errors that always end up on his exams.

He comes up to me and says, "You didn't tell me that you would be gone all of last week." This is true. I was visiting family in upstate New York, and I left without informing the school of my absence. I don't answer him. He lets me know that I can complete the homework I missed for half credit. It's obvious that this is a ploy to tank my grade in his class. He hardly ever assigns homework; when he does, the due dates are never enforced. As an added bonus, the whole class is now watching me in my embarrassment.

As he turns to walk away, I do the only thing I can think of. I flip him off. Lightning fast, he turns around and catches me in the act. I look at him coolly, turn away, and walk out of the room as he begins yelling.

Instead of walking to detention, I go home to my apartment (which is, inexplicably, my Madison digs) and pack a few things. I've got copies of my high school transcript, and I'm sick of this little town. I decide to go to high school somewhere else until I graduate. Leaving my friends, who are banging on my front door and imploring me not to leave, I sneak out the back and drive away quietly into the night.

(I wish I had actually done this to said high school teacher. Sadly, I just put up with his bullshit for a semester and moved on to better things.)

I am rolling Katamari (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Katamari_damacy), but in the real world. I know that I'm making Katamari to help a gravely ill friend who desperately needs the money I collect to pay for regular radiation treatments. Although the situation is serious, I'm still getting lost in my Katamari-rolling. As I pick up thumbtacks, then sticks of gum, then shampoo bottles, then cats and people and houses, I can't focus on my friend. The game is too fun to be worried about other people.

When I lose my game and the King yells at me, I'm upset. I wasn't paying attention to the task at hand. I press the "reset" button and resolve to give it another go.

(On a related note, I love playing Katamari. Man, awesome game.)

I am in the front of what appears to be an office building, with large revolving doors and floor-to-ceiling windows. I'm having a meeting at a circular table with a group of friends; I remember Scott, Courtney, and Kori being there, specifically, but there were others, including my sisters. I'm sitting at the table, facing away from the building's glass facade, and I've begun to conduct the meeting. While talking, I glance over at Kori, on the opposite side of the table. On her face is a look of genuine astonishment and fear. I turn toward the windows to see what garners such a look.

It's difficult to describe what I saw outside the building. What's happening is similar to the jungle stampede scene from the film Jumanji, except that animals aren't the only participants. Basically, every dangerous living thing imaginable is running amok, destroying the city outside. Looters, druggies, and guerilla soldiers are breaking into buildings left and right, gunning down the big cats attempting to stalk them. Every human outside is bloodthirstily brandishing a weapon. Every other predator in the animal kingdom is on the hunt. This scene is bloody and terrifying. As if this wasn't bizarre enough, I even see the clown from It shoot me a maniacal grin as it passes by the building's entrance.

I arm the meeting's attendees with the automatic weapons I handily stockpiled in the office. Strike teams are organized to lock all possible entrances to the building and subsequently guard them. Scott leads the first strike team, while I head up the second. I remember taking action to secure certain areas of the building violently, ensuring that no hostiles remained inside. The remaining people, those untrained in combat, are brought to the basement to begin working on marksmanship (Courtney's in charge of these lessons).

This dream abruptly ended while I was considering if I'd stockpiled enough food to survive the inital showdown in this post-apocalyptic reality.

I can only recall parts of two dreams from last night. I should start putting paper and pen by my bed. When I wake up in the middle of the night after an interesting dream, I always think to myself, "I'll have to remember this for the blog." I go back to sleep, and I seldom recall that interesting dream beyond knowing that it happened.

1. I'm walking outside. I smell something in the air, something sickly sweet, and I begin to vomit uncontrollably. The only relief in this is that I am alone; I'm not embarrassing myself in front of others. (This was not a pleasant dream. Also, this dream woke me up and, while I did not actually vomit, I did drool on the pillow. This is almost as unappealing to find on your pillow as yak.)

2. One of my friends informs me that she's not really into her boyfriend any longer, and vice versa. She says that they're going to wait for a few weeks this summer to see if their lukewarm feelings pass, but she anticipates that they will break up in the near future. I am overjoyed, as I've tagged her boyfriend as an egotistical asshat from the start, and I pictured their relationship ending in her heart being stomped upon as a result of his philandering ways, not in a painless fizzle. (I wish that, in reality, this relationship would just evanesce. I'm not optimistic, however; this will probably last way longer than it ever should have and end in her tears. Here's hoping he surprises me with some modicum of subtlety in breaking up. On a related note, the ability to watch and quote a plethora of mediocre movies and TV shows does not give one a personality.)

I only have two snippets today, one from last night, and one from the night before. I'm not retaining my dreams well lately.

1. I weigh myself on the scale in my apartment, and I'm only registering at 70 pounds. I wonder how this is possible; I feel thinner, but not anorexic, and I certainly don't look like I'm wasting away. I'm a medical marvel.

2. I meet up with four of my old roommates. Two are a blast to hang out with, and are cracking jokes just like the old days in Witte. The other two have developed serious drinking problems. The way they're throwing drinks back, they'll be on the market for new livers in five years. It's bizarre to see the juxtaposition of these two groups of my old roommates: one group fine and the other sliding toward rehab.