I am on the lam. I can only vaguely recall the crime that I committed, but I do remember that it involved three separate tasks which I think were derived from a dungeon in Zelda: Ocarina of Time, which I played before bed last night. Initially, Sarah is also on the run with me. As we know that a huge police force is after us, we leave my apartment (which is a snazzier version of my current place) as soon as possible. In an attempt to do the unexpected, we don't leave the building, but enter the apartment across the hallway from mine to hide. Luckily, the apartment is host to a handful of really stoned hippies and a few similarly stoned kittens, who couldn't care less about our intrusion. In fact, they're kind enough to lend us a change of clothes and help Sarah and I cut and dye our hair. I feel badly doing it, but I take a wad of cash off of a hippie's dresser. If we continue to run from the police, we won't be able to use plastic. After the theft, the kittens seem to be on to me, as they're biting and scratching me incessantly.

Over time, Sarah's no longer on the run with me, though I've no explanation for her departure. I go through a number of chase scenes somewhat similar to the Bourne Ultimatum foot chase through the city. Tightly followed by police, I'm entering apartments and houses in an attempt to lose my tail. These chases are taking place in a city similar to Madison; most of the housing I'm invading is leased to students, and later in the dream, I am being chased through buildings on a college campus. I hot-wire a few vehicles, and at one point, I almost get away with purchasing a ticket and boarding a plane with a false identity. I'm pleasantly surprised by the number of people willing to help me on the sly. Using public phones and code-speak, I am able to arrange several meetings with family and friends. One of these meetings takes place at a delicious Japanese restaurant, where I have a spread of sushi I've never before encountered. I am wary of land lines and surveillance systems.

Eventually, I illegally cross the border into Canada, adopt an alias, and emigrate to France. I run into Evan in Paris, and we talk about our blogs. I compliment him on his excellent writing. He says he hopes to continue reading about my dreams. The dream ends as I'm walking away from Evan down a beautiful Parisian street.

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.)

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 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.

1. (Sat. 5/26) My family and I are in a high rise apartment building. We're up on one of the highest floors -- I would venture to guess that we are 30 stories up in the air. We're in one of the apartments, just standing around chatting and enjoying the view of some city we're in. Suddenly, a coach bus careens down the street, followed by multiple police cruisers and a fire engine or two. The bus swerves to a halt, and a man exits, brandishing a large shotgun and strapped with ammunition. It's obvious at this point that he's taken the bus hostage. As SWAT teams assemble, police negotiators attempt to talk him down.

The building begins to shake. It's an earthquake, and we're in a high rise. This is a less than thrilling development. I remember that we're supposed to stay where we are and just get in a doorframe or hallway, but my family sprints for the stairs, as the elevators are disabled. We run out of the building in time. The earthquake has all but stopped.

Mama decides we need transport and hijacks a rather awkward van. We all jump in, and soon enough, the police are chasing us instead of the guy with hostages. We go on a long and dangerous chase through residential neighborhoods. At one point, Mama dodges the police for long enough to force us out of the van. She doesn't want us to be caught as well. Eventually, the police nab her. We feel guilty and decide to turn ourselves in. If she's going down, all of us are going down together.

2. (last night) I'm on the UW-LaCrosse campus for unknown reasons. I'm at some sort of party, and many, many people from my high school are present. Most are my age and older: friends that I graduated with. I see one individual who I dated. I know that I'm looking better than him, so I decide to try and make him jealous with tales of my success in college, loving boyfriend, blah blah blah. He knows that I'm trying to bait him and elects to ignore me. I move on.

Soon, I'm running with another high school crush across campus. No word on why we're running. We duck through a construction site. There's no work going on, but I'm definitely aware that this is some sort of punishable offense, and I don't appreciate that this dude forced me along on his shortcut. At the other end of the site, we run into one of my mom's friends. She says that she's supposed to take me home instead of my mom today. I am suspicious; I ask her what the password is, and she doesn't know. Since she's obviously making an attempt to kidnap me, we escape from her clutches before she has a chance at me.

I'm getting back to my apartment after spending a Sunday night at Scott's apartment in Watertown. Much to my surprise, I don't live in my State Street apartment with Tiff, but in a larger apartment with all my old roommates except Katie. I'm not upset that I'm living with these particular people, but the place is a wreck. Even my room (I at least had my own room, thank God) is totally torn apart for some reason. All the artwork up on my walls has been moved around to different places in the apartment. Bridget's cooking pesto spaghetti in the kitchen and it's getting everywhere. I'm getting all worked up, because I don't have much time to undo this damage before I have to go to class. Briana pulls me aside and admits that this mess is driving her totally crazy, too. She calms me down.

For some reason, I had sex at the end of this dream. I don't remember who I was having sex with at all.

Earlier in the night, I also dreamt that I was a mobster (due to the fact that I watched The Sopranos last night before bed). I don't have details, but I'm pretty sure that I killed a few people without remorse.