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  • Far away and had to call home though I didn't want to. Looking for a pay phone I was my mother for a moment. An Asian man, a cabin, blades of grass.

  • kneading dough my hands got sticky

  • Dorothy was visiting without George, which was odd. Had he died? She was hogging the bathroom so I had to make do with other mirrors. I was supposed to be getting ready for Christmas mass but I didn't want to go. I put on a stiff denim skirt that made me look like a triangle. A bulky black sweater tucked in did nothing good for my waist. A smudge of flour on it anyway, from the bread in the other dream. Fuck it, I'm not going. I knew I'd be in trouble with Dad.

  • My mother and I, walking through the woods. Another cabin. The sameness of everything bothered her. Clones! Father clone daughter clone stepfather clone. She was talking about the grass.

  • someone with a wide face getting married
  • I was assigned to write a news story about some copyright/trademark violation. I started interviewing the defendant, but I tried to prove the prosecution's side rather than get the facts. The defendant excused himself. He said I could meet him at my elementary school's playground.

    I went down there. I saw the defendant, but I could not bring myself to talk to him. I was angry that he didn't talk to me! He knew what I was there for. I hit on some girls that were about 16, or 17 but their mom got mad at me.

    I went back to the office, and I was scared, as my deadline would come in 30 minutes. My supervisor said that I don't need to worry, just go back there and tell the defendant to come to our office. Then my supervisor and I would interview him, with the camera rolling.

    I went down and fetched him. Back at the office, I was recording the interview. But it wasn't an interview! My supervisor merely chatted to him about personal things!

    I was in a large city... Maybe New York... I checked into a hotel, a fairly large one, but I didn't notice any branding or other trade marks on it.

    There was a big neon sign at the top but I couldn't read it for some reason. I decided to go out and walk around. I was sneaking around in the back alleys - looking for something, but I have no idea why or what for that matter. I came across a park, and suddenly I remembered that I was in this big city, and walking past a park with a bunch of homeless people sleeping or smoking their crack. I am really scared, so I decide to head back to the hotel as fast as I can - It's not too far away, just about a block and I can see the big sign at the top of it. I notice one of the homeless people coming towards me... He has a knife in his hand. I want to run but just keep walking and try not to look at him. He walks up behind me and puts the knife to my throat. I recognise him. It's that homeless guy that was in Apt Pupil - the one that gets thrown in the basement at the end (I don't wanna ruin it for those of us that havn't seen it).

    He seems really strung out - probably high on something. He is very distrought - babbling about something, but I didn't hear it for a few more minutes. He is holding the knife to my neck and I start to listen to what he's saying - He is saying that he hates Bill Gates, since he is about to release Windows ME, and this guy has been homeless since Windows 95 came out. He is mad because now he will be even further behind in the technology, and will never be able to find a good job again. I'm not sure why he was complaining to me, but I was sure that I didn't want to be around him... I started to take steps towards the hotel... maybe make my way back slowly and make a run for it. He didn't seem to care that I was inching away, he only kept moving up with me and pressing the knife to my neck. I decided that I had to make a run for it - I took off down the street, but for some reason I coulnd't run very fast - I'm really scared but can't do anything about it. Just then he catches up to me - I knew the knife was coming...

    Then I woke up.

    I didn't dream, but I did have a feverish hallucination. I was deathly afraid that my ontology of the world was wrong, as was the process by which it was formed.

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