I am on a sound stage hosting some Today-like morning talk program. We're doing a segment on makeup for fall, and the lady we've got on to host the piece is not Joan Rivers, but she's got the same stylist. You know the look: pink tweed pantsuit, 30-odd years of facial plastic surgery, and heavy, heavy pancake clown makeup. After filming stops, the woman begins to attack my look in a passive-aggressive manner. I wear little to no makeup on a day-to-day basis (true), and Rivers-doppelgänger is aghast that I haven't even bothered to wear eyeliner and lipliner on the air. She's walking me through the compact options that she'd recommend I immediately start implementing into my daily routine, and, much to my chagrin, my mother is walking behind Rivers-doppelgänger, nodding and smiling at her suggestions. Mama has the nerve to tell me that Rivers-doppelgänger is totally right, that I should be more aware of my appearance. I am irritated, because success in medical school has nothing to do with my makeup habits. (After writing this, I'm kind of thinking that Rivers is her own doppelgänger, but whatever. Also, interesting fun fact: when I image googled "too much makeup" in order to find a picture for this post, Tammy Faye Baker popped up everywhere, but no Joan Rivers. Since Baker just kicked the bucket, I'll keep it classy with another picture.)

After I leave the sound stage, I run into a guy I know. This guy always has beautiful curly hair (not you, Scott, though your hair's also very nice). For some reason, he's chopped his hair into a very short and wholly unappealing buzz cut. The effect is so dramatic that I don't recognize him at first. However, as soon as he opens his mouth, I can tell who he is. Years of people telling this kid he's a genius (which he is, in some respects) haven't served him all that well; he assumes that he's an authority on many subjects, when, in fact, he presents himself as pompous and extremely irritating most of the time.

I ditch the kid and take a route walking home with my mom that leads us right by St. Patrick's Parish, the church at which I was First Communion-ed and confirmed. I spot a limo in the driveway along with rows of catering tables - a wedding's obviously taking place. Mama insists that we peek inside to see who's getting hitched, so we walk in the main entrance. St. Pat's is magnificent in my dream, with a vestibule that's more like a huge reception hall. Tables are set up in here for the post-nuptials dinner and dance. Of course, my mom immediately spots a woman she recognizes and is assigned by said woman to man the guest book. I follow her to the guest book table, but she soon sees someone else she must greet, and she abandons me. I am grudgingly manning her post when a woman who looks vaguely familiar approaches. She begins to tell me a story about the mysterious disappearance and death of a man who is apparently one of her relatives. He was going out to meet a friend whose truck had stalled in an isolated area, and the last person who saw him alive was the person at Citgo who sold him cigarettes on his way out of town. I am very intrigued by her story, and I ask her questions until I've gotten all useful information about the case from her. (I had a weird in-dream déjà vu experience while the woman was telling the story of this unsolved murder. I don't know if it was a component of another dream that I'd forgotten before writing down or if the story's loosely based on reality. It was truly bizarre to feel déjà vu in a dream, in any case.)

I'm heading into my old high school with Tiffany and my sister, Sarah. For some reason, school was optional for students today, but my mother's still forced me to attend. We head to our first class, which is in some area of science. Tiff informs me that since most of the class is absent today, we're supposed to be watching a video entitled "Epidemic" which focuses on the spread of multiple diseases, including the medieval plague, polio, ebola, and AIDS. This doesn't exactly forecast a happy-go-lucky start to the day, but when Mrs. Kemp (my favorite high school biology teacher) tries to put the tape into the VCR, it breaks immediately.

We put our chairs into a large circle, intent on discussing disease spread instead of watching the film. For some reason, Mrs. Goodman (the district RN) is acting as an aide to our class of about ten students. Interestingly, after the tape breaks, the class unanimously decides that we're not staying. I begin to leave the classroom and head home with Sarah. Instantly, Mrs. Goodman is on my tail, guilting me about my decision to leave school. She follows me all the way out to my car. I remember Sarah drove us home, because she unlocked and started the Prelude while I distracted Mrs. Goodman for the time being.

1. I am with my sisters at home. We're going to a birthday party later on in the day, and we're trying to think of a suitable present for the kid. The kid whose birthday we're celebrating is in L&E's class, a real pain whom we can't stand in real life. For some unknown reason, the most befitting gift we can think of is a nose ring piercing. He doesn't yet have his nose pierced, so we're going to get a gift certificate for the cost of piercing and buy him a nice ring to go along with it. Most of this dream was spent with me trying to get everyone involved in the van to go to Wal-Mart and buy the piercing. Once there, we agonized over jewelery choices for some time, finally deciding on a black ring.

2. I am a detective on an inner city beat, and my team and I are investigating a series of similar murders. In each case, the victim's skull has been cut away and specific brain areas have been removed. We're on the scene of another murder which appears to be associated with the same serial murderer. This victim, a young, pretty blonde woman, has had her amygdala removed, with other brain regions virtually intact. (Due to my BS in neuroscience, I've been a real boon to the team as of late.) Near the woman's body, we find a man's skull. This skull has been picked clean to the bone -- whether by time or actual cleaning, we don't know yet. The skull's got a characteristic circle cut away over the posterior portion; we know that this man is yet another victim of this bizarre brain-coveting killer. We go through the backlogs of unsolved murders, and we match the skull to the body of a victim recovered in the mid-nineties. Apparently, this killer has been at work for over a decade and has just now chosen to be more forthright with his methods. We ponder his motives as we begin to pore over the crime scene.

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 studied neuroscience all day yesterday. Consequently, most of my dreams revolved around the brain.

I dreamt that there was some sort of evil scientist out there doing research. I was observing him somehow. He would force his subjects to administer an electric shock to themselves. The shock looked painful, although it wasn't enough to knock anyone over when they pressed the button to receive it (All subjects were standing, all of the time). To motivate subjects to cooperate, the scientist threatened them with a much more powerful electric shock, which he could apply to them at any time. If a subject didn't administer a shock to themselves when they were ordered to, the scientist would give them a jolt capable of sending most subjects into violent seizures. Since all subjects were held in the same room, uncooperative ones were basically examples for the rest. Compliance was high with the scientist's requests, for the most part.

I also dreamt about neglect, which results from a lesion to the posterior parietal cortex. I was treating a patient with contralateral neglect; he hadn't dressed the left half of his body and described things monocularly. It was interesting.

The last dream I can recall involved some sort of high school project. For the project, each student was given a sample of marijuana. I don't know what the project entailed, but my dream picked up on the conclusion of the project, at which time each student was required to turn their pot sample back in to the teacher. Pretty much every student was coming up with ingenious ways to smuggle most of their pot sample out of the school. This was incredibly amusing. I guess it's always funny to outwit teachers when you're in high school.

1. I am in my woods at home, building a tree fort with a good male friend of mine. Mostly I'm coaching his actions from the ground, as I'm not really handy with tools and might hammer myself to a tree. In an effort to shift the entire structure a few feet in one direction, we accidentally break several branches off of the tree and boards shower to the ground. In defeat, I lay down on the ground looking up at the perfectly blue sky. My friend lays down right next to me. I normally avoid hanging around him when we are alone because we have a lot of chemistry. I'm not the cheating type, but this guy drives me dangerously close to the edge. I sincerely feel like if given a decent shot, we'd be a good couple. However, this is an impossibility right now; I'm in love with Scott and don't want to fuck that up. Furthermore, he has his own girlfriend to worry about. In a flurry of honesty, I tell him all of this. He puts his arm around me and says that he feels the same way. Pulling me close, he gives me one sweet kiss, telling me that until our timing is better and the stars align properly in our direction, we shouldn't even be near each other.

On that note, we decide to go base jumping together. With a small group, we are lifted in a helicopter to a canyon ridge. One deep breath, and I jump off of the edge. For a few blissful moments, I am hanging in midair. Then, I pull my chute and float down into an area heavily populated with saplings. The saplings are difficult to walk through without being whacked by them at every turn. Eventually, by playing a kind of Marco Polo, yelling for each other, my friend and I find each other. I am so happy to see him, but this time, I keep my distance.

2. Given Kori's mother's condition, I also had several dreams revolving around cancer and hospitals last night. I've got no detail, thankfully, though it was a less than pleasant night, as far as dreams go.

Scott, Courtney, and I are going into a convenience store which we frequent. It's early in the morning, and we're surprised to find the front doors unlocked and wide open with no employees on duty inside. Nothing in the store seems out of place, but after a look at the employee schedule in the break room, we realize that our friend Hassett is supposed to be working right now. We quickly go to the front doors and deter potential customers from entering. A few minutes later, Hassett shows up. He apologizes, says he's been working far too much recently. Then he notices that the store's already unlocked, we're already inside. He's shocked, and after a second check of the employee schedule, we know the guilty party who failed to lock the doors to the store last night is none other than my 11th grade precalc teacher (Kori and I, and probably everyone else, just loathed this guy).

It's time to go to school, so I jump into the van with Mama, who's waiting in the store's parking lot. She drives me to my old high school. My first class is precalc, and I'm so thrilled that I can blackmail my precalc teacher. The next time he's a dick, I'll just threaten to bring the hammer down on this whole convenience store irresponsibility, and he's have to back the fuck off.

1. I'm at home and Mama tells me that Laura and Emily are going on this cool canoe trip. It's been organized through my old high school somehow and, from the sound of it, the trip's going to be a couple of days long. She asks me if I'd like to go. I haven't been in a canoe for a while, and this trip sounds like a great idea. I get busy packing for the trip. Among the items packed are half a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and my pink bikini (which seems ill-suited for use on a canoe trip). Everything's packed in this black backpack that I bought at Afterthoughts when I was a kid.

Anyway, we get to the launch point and there's a handful of kids and our guides there. For some reason, someone brought a monkey with us. This monkey is the polar opposite of the gorilla in the last post; he's playful and friendly and just mischievous enough to keep us interested but not piss us off. I'm really into the idea of this trip and am ready to get rolling. Just then, my mom asks me if I brought the money for the trip. She drops this bomb on me that the canoe trip costs $1700. Since I definitely don't feel like emptying my checking account for a trip I thought was free, I can't go. Laura, Emily, and the monkey push off and leave me.

2. I am in the Sparta library (I haven't been there in years, on account of I owe them a chunk of change in fines from high school). I walk into a side room that's used for meetings. In the room are a dozen or so naked people, mostly couples. They're engaging in a raucous partner-swapping orgy. I'm not really into the whole orgy scene, but I do see one guy I'm attracted to. He's delivering a news broadcast in the corner of the room and looks suspiciously like the guy who played Doogie Howser, MD. While he's on camera, I go under his desk and begin having sex with him (I don't understand the mechanics of this, either). I'm amazed at his composure; he continues to deliver the news without much ado. Fast forward a few minutes, and we're all dressed, sitting in on a Q&A session for the people who organized the orgy. They're asking questions to its patrons -- what did you like, what didn't you like, etc. A woman gives me her business card and says that we have to do this again sometime. She looks like one of the women on Real Housewives of Orange County, but the name on her business card is the same as the name of the dean of students here.

I go upstairs in the library and look for a journal article about Dickens. They keep all the journals behind the desk in the library, and I'm struck at how few there are here compared with the libraries at the UW. Instead of my article, the librarian mistakenly hands me a stack of papers that Kori wrote in middle school. Included is the one she wrote about the kid who painted his car with a illustrated version of "American Pie", including "The day the music died" scrawled over the hood. I'm excited to show the papers to Kori, but the librarian won't let me keep them, says they're a matter of public record now. I resolve to break into the library later and get them.

This is a rehash from a few nights ago.

I am in my house in Sparta. Much to our surprise, we find a baby gorilla in the house. It's about the size and weight of an average three-year-old. I'm pretty excited when we find this animal, as the primates on TV always seem like they'd be fun to play with. However, as soon as we pick this baby gorilla up, we realize it's going to be no picnic to deal with him. He's scratching and clawing at us, and as he squirms it becomes evident that he's not going to be a pleasant pet. We decide to leave him outside the house, which we manage to do with some difficulty. A few minutes later, we find another baby gorilla inside the house. This second animal is about as much trouble as the first to banish outside. Additionally, this gets us worried that mama gorilla has made the house her stomping grounds. As anyone who's seen a nature channel special on mothers and their young knows, this would be a bad situation, especially as we've forcibly removed several gorilla toddlers from the area. This ends up being an unfounded worry, however; we see mama gorilla playing with her babies outside a few minutes later. We then go around the house, locking all windows and doors. The gorillas have gotten much better at manipulating door handles and we don't want them getting in again.

I woke up several times during this night and therefore had a couple of unrelated dreams. One of them involved me being a member of SWAT about to stage a tactical assault on a building. Here's another, which I've got a little more detail on.

Scott and I are in some tropical city on the ocean, possibly in Mexico. Neither of us speak the native language. We're walking around the city for a while, and then we decide to head to the beach to mingle with people. It's dusk, and the beach has become a gathering point for a bunch of out-of-towners. We find a group of 4-5 extremely attractive people (a mix of male and female) and approach them. They're English speakers, and we are quickly accepted and assimilated into their group. I'm feeling like these modelesque people are out of our league, but we go with the flow and as the sun sets, we run into the water for a little dip.