I remember a lot of random details from a dream last night, but nothing completely coherent. I think the dream was little more than random details, anyway; a lot of the visuals were so intricate...

There was a little dream about having some sports tickets (basketball? baseball? I have no idea) that were specials that I had to get checked out or something at the stadium office. But it was the wrong night, so there was only one girl working in the booth; I showed the tickets to her, and she had no idea what to do with them. And then she became a vending machine, selling munchies, but I had to get back in line; when I got back up to her, she had run out of things to sell. I remember feeling a deep loss, even though there was another vending machine just down the hall.

In another apparently unconnected dream, I was able to play the piano. Specifically the australian national anthem. I think I was entertaining whole bunch of people. Problem is, it was the only song I knew, and I didn't even really know how I knew the song; it was like the only one I could remember from when I seriously studied; I didn't even understand what keys I was hitting. I felt like that movie i saw about the street piano player who could play the moonlight sonata really really well, but didn't understand music or how to play or anything, so the teacher tried re-teaching him the sonata in order to get a jump-start on teaching him how to play.

Then I was alone, in an empty space with the piano, and there was a strange wooden doll inside the piano that I discovered and carefully extracted. I knew it was fragile... It was also animate, somehow; it could open its eyes and look at me. But it had barely functional legs, and it's arms needed to be assembled; the arms were 3-d puzzles with nearly infinite complexity. I was lazily trying to put the arms together when suddenly I heard the horn from a ship, or maybe a bell? Anyway, the empty space I was in was rapidly filling with water, and I was in the ocean, and I hadn't even noticed, since I was paying attention to the doll. Well, it couldn't swim, so it started screaming, and I swam with it over to the ship and climbed aboard. Later, apparently after assembling the doll, it wanted to take piano lessons. It turned out to be quite the prodigy, as well.

Somewhere in all of that, I was Scully. Not for too long, but I definately felt sexy like Gillian Andersen.

I dreamed about Malcolm X and his wife, Betty. I'm not sure if I was Malcolm or Betty or another person or just an observer. Betty was sitting on the couch, crying. Malcolm was pacing around the room, frustrated. Someone had been sending them pies in the mail, and lots of them. Five, ten, twenty pies in the mail each day. This, apparently, was meant as a threatening gesture, and of course they suspected the Nation of Islam. The pies were not booby-trapped or poisoned or even bad-tasting or ugly. It was just that there were too damn many of them, and they were coming every single day.

Betty was inconsolable. She wanted the pies to stop. Malcolm X couldn't do anything to stop them. It was very sad.

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