I dreamt that, for some reason, I was "in the neighborhood" of the 9:30 in Washington, DC, and so I decided to go see whatever concert they were having that night. I also had my RL friends Ross and Erin with me. We decided that, since we had an hour to kill before the concert (it was only 8:30 - the 9:30 starts all their shows at, well, 9:30) we'd go to a nearby restaurant and get some dinner. A large mob of teenagers overheard, and thought they'd do the same thing. They knew of this one fab restaurant nearby, and so they led us to it. They got into this quite-classy establishment without a problem. When the three of us tried to go in, a scene from Seinfeld ensued... for whatever political reason, Ross and Erin (who are a couple) went in first, and I was to join them, but as I was going to the table, I saw that the head waiter was lambasting them and telling them they had to leave, but wasn't giving them any reason other than that "You stupid kids are always ruining this place!"

I got to the table, and asked the waiter what the problem was, and when he explained again, I explained that all three of us were 21 or older and hardly counted as "kids." Then he started to insist that we weren't allowed there because my appearance wasn't up to standards. I pointed out a couple who had already been served their food where they were dressed to the same standard as I was (namely a turtleneck, khakis, and birkenstocks), and then he started to make implications that I was too fat and ugly to eat there. So, of course, I made a big scene, and the three of us left, running.

My aunt and uncle bequeath me their apartment. The area reminds me of the palm tree stateliness of the more dignified Palm Beach property on A1A. I lie out on the beach, and there are 4 characters: two beach bunnies, and two fellows reminiscent of Jay and Silent Bob, or perhaps Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. I soon find the clowns are no competition, and the chicks display a gratifying interest, despite my goofy 70's denim bell-shaped hat. Hey, I'm balding, my scalp sunburns easily, OK?
Back at the intricate, palatial apartment, there is a housewarming. Although I have not lived there, I have unmanageable heaps of borrowed books to return to my sister. There are at least two floors, and I keep finding bedrooms and computers that I hadn't noticed before. I will never find time to familiarize myself with all the computers, there are old Apple IIe's and Tandys and Intel machines from 8086 on. Some are draped with plants, in cozy little nooks off the labyrinthine halls, some are tucked into dark, dusty guest rooms. Sisters and their husbands, parents, and children explore, looking for wine, cheese and crackers, and/or cookies. The place is full of plants and sunlight, wood tones, and bare floors. Without guests, it will be quiet, but not lonely. And those beach bunnies must live close by...

I dreamt that, for whatever reason, I had finally broken out of this rut that I call my life, and made some decent cash. Anyhow, I was at my wedding to a girl who's name escapes me. It was like this really lavish affair, and i'd flown in like everyone I know, as well as all of my family (The dream was set in San Francisco, for reasons unknown.)

Anyhow, one of the people who was there, was a girl named Cheryl aka Teefers. We went through all of the usual wedding preperations, and I seemed to be reasonable happy with the whole affair (understatement :).

Anyhow, some time into the dream, she told me she loved me. This kinda fucked up my perfect scenario (context: I do love teefers, but she doesn't realise it :(). (now I have to hope that she doesn't ever read everything :)

after this, I basically cracked, and had to get out of there. My fiance, however, was kind of strong, and was quite fond of beating the crap out of me when I did something wrong, so I left a note for her, which simply read "I need time to think. I would have told you in person, but I value my life.". (When I look at this awake, it seems like a bit of a lame thing to do)

So, the dream cuts forward to when everyone has left, and I'm on IRC speaking to teefers again, and anyhow, I forget what words were exchanged, but I do remember that they were.... well, not bad, but not live happily everafter.

I then woke up, and cried. Aren't I pathetic?

I had a dream in which I was doing slave labor. While I was fixing a roof in the middle of the night, the person I was with suggested that we make a break for the border (which was about 10 feet away, it was the border to Africa...don't ask me). I explained to the poor fool that that was exactly what they wanted us to do. They were watching...and they would shoot us as soon as we were over the border. Africa was no protection from that...these people didn't care about international law, did he know just who we were dealing with!?

Then we walked next door and watched people street fight in the parking lot of the gas station.
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Talking to Patrick at OLA, flirting a little maybe, ordinary conversation.

Sitting with a girl friend at a round umbrella table outside. Crowded. Explaining to her that I couls re-enter dreams through vicarious . . . something . . . the man next to me stood up and I was either living through the memory of something in his shopping bag, or using the shopping bag's experiences as a jumping-off point - somehow this man's motion and the things he carried enabled me to jump back into deeper dreaming, and I chose to be back with Patrick, and I knew it was a dream, and I knew it would end, and I chose to kiss him hard.

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