Finally I discovered the little hidden traps in my school that only a senior would know about. I snuck out of my history class by climbing through the trapdoor in the wall and went to the cafeteria to get a bottle of water. It was very cool of me, because not just anybody knew about the trapdoors in the walls of my school.

Everybody was lined up outside in the field because they needed to get water before the busses to the field trip began to leave. All the seniors got on the big yellow schoolbus and after a short and forgotten trip, we arrived at my elementary school. Recess had not yet begun, so my AP English class gathered around the tire swing in the playground. They had replaced the tire with a nice new kid-friendly tire. It wasn't the old hard tractor tire that I remembered from my childhood. So, at the advising of my English teacher, we all stood around it in a circle and watched as we each took turns getting on it and swinging around.

Finally all of the kindergarteners came out and sat around at the other end of the field. A few teachers brought out the fake trees which were to be used in the recess presentation. This was new to me; we didn't have recess presentations when I was in kindergarten, but I accepted it as a sign of the changing times. The fake trees looked very real, but they were very light. One of the teachers was running around the trees in an attempt to teach the children a message about saving the environment. Towards the end of the presentation, I took the largest fake tree and began tearing through it. I ripped off the outer bark, and then ripped off the next smoother shell inside. Then there was a layer of foam, and I tore that off too. And inside that was a layer of blue and black checkered material that incensed me. I tore it off as well. Finally there was nothing left of the fake tree.

A beautiful girl my age with brown hair came over. She was crying, asking me why I liked being there. I said that I liked seeing the kindergarteners. They reminded me of my youth and lost innocence. She began crying harder, but smiling and inching towards me. I should have cried, too, but I couldn't. Another guy came over, crying, and he and the girl took solace in each other while I walked dejectedly to the monkey bars.

I am mowing my lawn and i discover a large ShastaDaisy growing in the grass. It has several flowers, and they are somewhat deformed. I am surprised to see the plant there, as it is large and I've never noticed it before. I have to decide whether or not to leave it there, which would take some work, or just uproot it, leaving the lawn undisturbed. I decide to let it grow, and am proud of my decision.

My dime-store dream interpretation:The lawn is my life, simple and content, a bland green stretch of grass. The daisy is a person i recently met, who stretches me and helps me grow and flower. It would be easier to just eliminate this person, keep things smooth and simple. But I've decided not to. I like the stimulation of this person, and am willing to work to keep him in my life. I am proud of deciding that, and the dream reinforces that.

The first thing I remember was getting into a discussion with a very attractive woman. We were involved in some sort of dialog regarding something, and there was a disagreement between us. I don't remember the details of what it was about, but I was quite frustrated with her, and she with me.

Later, she was at my house, and I invited her to walk me to talk some more. We walked outside, and around the patio. While we were walking, we continued our discussion. I don't remember the preceeding details of this discussion, but I remember from this part forward.

"You see, I used to live in that building. That very apartment, even. Then my family moved to Florida."

She looked at me curiously, and said "So the house you have now is smaller than your apartment?"

"No, actually it's a lot bigger."

By this time, we had rounded the patio and we were now on the side of the house.

"Oh. But it's not decorated as nicely as the apartment."

"Actually, it's decorated a bit better than the apartment was."


We looked at one another and looked away quickly, avoiding an obvious awkward silence.

And then, it happened.

I would describe it as "Spontaneously Combustable Passion(tm)", because we immediately began embracing one another furiously, and landing hurried kisses on one another. We fell to the ground and continued our session until I was lying on my back and she was straddling me. (Still fully clothed, mind you. I would also assume I wasn't frustrated with her anymore.)

I looked past her, and at the end of my yard was a woman sitting behind a tree. I turned to my partner and said "She's looking right at us." We both stopped our little tryst, and she got off of me. I sat up, and we both switched over to a professional demeanor. (As if it wasn't too late. Sheesh.) My shirt was half out of my shorts, and we started to walk back to the rest of the people who were gathered on the porch.

Had the dream continued to the point at which we reached them, I'm sure they would have guessed what had took place.

What an intense dream. You can imagine my disappointment when I woke up and found it to be only that.

Used Books and Singularity Conversation

  • I'm with my Dad and a young boy, about to leave on a road trip. We've loaded up the minivan and are headed out. Just before we leave town, my Dad stops in front of a used bookstore and tells me to go in a buy three particular books, old classics that he wants to give to the young boy. I think the boy is a relative, perhaps a little brother or nephew. I go into the store and find the books, small leather-bound volumes that smell as old as they look. Two of them are reasonably priced, one with a dusty red cover, the other in blue. The third, Brothers McMullen (the only title I can remember but I think was supposed to be Brothers Karamazov) is obviously the oldest and the spine is coming apart. The price is $18 and I see inside that it's a first edition from the 19th century. I go outside and tell the prices to my Dad who decides to leave the expensive one behind. I purchase the other two and we go on our way.

  • In my high school. I'm in class and bored to death, so I sneak out and walk to my locker. Opening it up, I step inside where there's room enough for my small chair to sit in. I rest there for a while, eating almonds, until someone hears me and calls attention to me. I leave the locker and walk into another classroom. The teacher is one of my college professors, Wesley Mackey. He shows me a new educational poster he just purchased. It graphs humanity's accelerating technological progress over time and projected slightly into the future, alongside the fundamental physical limits imposed by physics (speed of light, Planck radius, etc.). We discuss it, Mackey mostly smiling as I follow a series of implications. I say that the chart plainly shows that technology can progress to an infinite degree while still staying within the fundamental limits. Even more astoundingly, by extrapolating from the trends that we've held to since the beginning of technology, it looks like we'll reach infinite that point of infinite progress around 2035, in an amazing technology singularity. Mackey laughs, seeing that I got it. I laugh too. The world will be remade in our image.
I actually had this dream a little while ago, but I can't remember exactly when, so it'll be easier to write it in for today than figure it out.

I dream that I am organizing a large animal rights event or convention of some kind. Not far from the truth, I organize a yearly convention in real life. So... I am waiting outside this really big event. Waiting for someone to show up and deliver something which will be central to the event.

ABBA, the band, drives up. I wouldn't know it was ABBA were they not driving a giant black cube van with "ABBA" in white letters painted on the side, back, front, everywhere. One of the members of the band steps out of the truck and wordlessly hands me a severed dog head. No blood or anything, just cut off at the neck and dead, eyes open. A beautiful chocolate brown dog. The head is still warm.

I am naturally horrified, but not for the reasons I should be. What is terrible is that now I have to face a horde of animal rights activists with this severed dog head as my only token. I can't believe ABBA could do something like this.

Obviously, ABBA misunderstood the assignment.

I'm home, but it's not my dad's house. I'm on the porch with my dog, who's been dead for a few years, and a lion who I know to be the pet of one of our white trash neighbors. Initially, it seems the situation is copacetic. Rainy (my dog) and the lion are sniffing each other, looking at each other, behaving more or less amiably. Then, for no apparent reason, they decide to start shit.

They're growling, circling each other. Rainy barks in a way I know to be a signal for the puppy, who's in the house, to come out and get her back. But that won't do. The aid of the puppy is not going to do anything for Rainy's strategic position, and she's old. It's up to me.

I consider everything I know about bears. (Why bears? Cause I'm a country girl and that's the big dangerous mammal I know the most about.) In the process, the lion nearly becomes a bear, but I move on with my contingency plan too quickly for it to shift shape. I run away from my snarling dog as the puppy bounds, happy and puppy-like, out of the house. The lion follows, just as I had planned. Mwuahahahaha.

From there, it gets weird. The lion is chasing, but not attacking. It comes close to biting me several times, on the hand as I try to fend it off and on the ass, as I'm running. Then it turns into a boy, finds a chair, pulls me onto its lap, and we start making out. I only did what I had to, to save my dogs.

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