I'm with Scott at some large conference center with many beautiful outside garden areas (It reminded me of Lake Geneva from high school Student Council Conferences.). We find a trampoline outside and lay on it. It's early evening, and it's the perfect time to be sitting outside, enjoying the day.

Suddenly, and without warning, I'm engaged in this ridiculous sexual escapade. Scott and I are basically having an orgy with a handful of other people outside at dusk. The weirdest part of all this is that people are walking by; no one is gawking or looking at us strangely.

I haven't had a sex dream in a while, so I guess I was due up. Lord, this one was a crazy one. But all in all, a pretty fun dream. It certainly tops the dream a while back where my fruit rotted.

I am hanging out with Courtney and her new kitty. The cat is a front-declawed female, orange with white stripes. She's unnamed as of yet, and she attacks me when I walk through Courtney's front door. This little kitty has an attack impulse that has to be seen to be believed.

I also dreamt that I called Sylvan to apply to be a tutor to high school kids. I have no idea why.

I am wrapping up the filming of a movie, and I can't wait to finish and be on the way home. I apparently still live in Madison, since that's the home I'm looking forward to. It's about 3:30, and I'm thinking I'll be on the road by 4pm.

Unfortunately, my assistant informs me that reshoots are scheduled to begin around 4:30. I'm trying not to be the stereotypical pretentious, hard-to-work-with actress, but I really wanted the fuck out of the sound stage. I go, somewhat angrily, to my hotel to apply layers and layers of pancake stage makeup. Of course, I've got people to do this for me, but I'm still peeved.

After I have all the makeup on, I'm unrecognizable as the famous actress I am. People on the street don't stop to get photographs with me; instead, they're making fun of me because I've got so much makeup on. They obviously don't understand that this much makeup is necessary on camera. The teasing just gets me more worked up.

By the time I storm onstage to do reshoots, I'm fuming. The director is familiar to me; she looks at me and sighs. The stereotypical actress that I'm trying not to be -- that's somehow what I've become over the years.

I am babysitting for a mother with at least six children. They are all about three or four, at the run-around-and-be-a-little-terror stage of their development. It's a total nightmare. I can't keep up with them, and I'm just chasing them all around the damn place, trying to curb the destruction they're causing. The best part is, the mother is around, as well; neither she nor I can handle them alone, but, together, we're trying to keep everything under control.

I remember that I took the group for a walk outside at night. We had kids chasing other kids into the middle of city streets, kids grabbing belongings of mine (e.g., purse, shoes) and hiding them outdoors, kids crying because another one slapped them. It was enough to force yours truly into a vow of chastity.

In addition, a woman I strongly disliked in my high school days was around, judging my capability to care for the gaggle of children. She didn't help me at all, but just threw advice my way. This made me angrier than I already was, as I could've really used an extra pair of hands at this point in the babysitting assignment (In lieu of some superfluous, judgmental advice.).

(I was babysitting in my dream because I babysat for Kori's nieces last night. Also, I happened to see aforementioned hated woman yesterday. She was around, pushing people's buttons, as usual. Aargh.)

I'm in a huge grocery store. They've got a full refrigerated aisle (both sides) devoted to cheese. I don't understand why anyone would need such a huge grocery store -- I've only gone into the store to get some milk, and the store is so huge that I can't find the dairy section. I did, however, find the huge walls of cheese.

I woke up a lot last night, so I had several distinct dreams, but I've got little to no recall this morning.

I watched Sicko, the new Michael Moore film, right before bed last night. Also, my best friend's mother passed away around noon.

I dreamt that I was a practicing oncologist. I was responsible for denying care to individuals dying of cancer. I didn't know how to get out of the situation I was in. Practicing in Canada or Europe was practically equivalent to running away from the problem. But how do you change the medical practices of an entire country?

I have been away from my apartment for several days, and I'm returning home after a long drive. I'm really hungry, so I reach in the fruit bowl to grab an apple. Unfortunately, all of the fruit is extremely rotten and smelly. It all has to be thrown out. I am depressed, and I'm still hungry for breakfast.

I am camping in a Bonnaroo-like atmosphere. I'm sitting around, talking to a group of guys about the difficulties of my occupation. I sell weed in Brooklyn, NY. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

(Note: I just came back from Bonnaroo yesterday. Our neighbors were from New York, and one of them definitely hailed from Brooklyn. I definitely just lifted this dream from the events of the past five days.)

I am going out with one of my male friends in a large, unidentifiable city. He parks in a metered spot, informing me that we have to move the car by 6am the next morning. I am not amused.

We go into what at first appears to be a bar. However, it quickly becomes clear that this is not your run-of-the-mill bar scene. Everyone is there to have sex with others, and not in that subtler way that transpires in other bars. There are rooms out back of the bar to actually do it in. You just find your best option at the bar and head for the back.

I am amused by this, as someone appears to have taken the middleman out of one-night stands. Also, you never have to take anyone back to your apartment or give them your phone number as a nice gesture. It's understood that the whole point of the encounter is sex at this bar.

To give you one interesting visual of the characters at this bar, after walking in, I immediately noticed that there were several priests present in full dress. Shortly thereafter I realized that the priests were wearing platform shoes. As it turns out, the priests weren't there to judge the multitude of sinners present; they were non-seminarians playing dress-up at the sex bar. Yep, this is my subconscious.

Scott just bought this sandwich for $2. He is very proud of the fact that the sandwich was so cheap, and he keeps bragging about the deal that he got. After he eats the sandwich, he starts vomiting uncontrollably. Everywhere.

That's all I got.

I am cooking in a woman's kitchen. One of my friends had volunteered to help this woman, but he backed out at the last minute, leaving me to pick up the slack. The woman is cooking for a large family, and she is an Iranian-born Muslim, so I'm unfamiliar with all of the recipes and some of the ingredients. Trying to help this woman is a complete nightmare; she's so bossy and she likes to emphasize all of the things I'm doing wrong, all of the problems I'm having. However, when we serve the finished meal to a table of twenty-five, I feel pride ... and relief.

I only remember snippets of my other dreams last night, but:
- I am hanging out with a crowd from my old high school, and we are walking in Madison. Even though I know the city better than anyone, no one will listen to me when I try to give them better directions.
- A huge storm is brewing off in the distance. The clouds are making gorgeous formations -- everything looks incredible. I want to take pictures of the sky, but no one with me has brought a camera.
- I think I reinvented one of my fellow high school graduates as an incredibly attractive man. We were flirting nicely with each other, hanging out. It was fun.

I am at home with my family. We're driving somewhere, so I hop in our new (used) car, a five-year-old Honda Civic. I begin to drive with Mama and Papa in the car; Laura, Emily, and Sarah are following behind. I stop for a desperate-looking female hitchhiker. Suddenly, the cars are undergoing a game of musical chairs. All of the girls get in my car, and Mama and Papa take over the other vehicle. Soon after we start driving again, I realize that I've got little to no braking power going on. I'm doing all kinds of crazy donut moves trying to stop the Civic without getting into a crash. When I ask Mama and Papa what's going on, they shrug, saying that the brakes are a little tricky on the new car. Apparently, "tricky" means "nonexistent."

Because I had to wake up early on a weekend day, and because I woke up once this morning at 6:30a (accidentally), I dreamt in the last few hours of my sleep that I had to get up and I didn't want to. Way to add insult to injury.

It was really lame dreaming. And then I - yep - had to get up early. Just like I was repeatedly dreaming.

I am in the mall with a few friends, including Courtney. This is a a place I've never been before. I am going around searching for a product, some kind of clothing. I'm going into store after store, inquiring about the clothes. Salespeople are scoffing at me as they turn me away, as if they're saying, "Why in the world would we carry that?" I'm getting increasingly frustrated at the holier-than-thou attitudes of the store clerks, but Courtney calms me down. We go back to my apartment.

Courtney and I watch a movie about princesses. We're sitting on my bed, watching my new TV. The movie is weird, because the main character's voice sounds like Miss Piggy, but all the dialogue is in German. I'm doing a running translation for Courtney.