We had a running competion somewhere in Finland and we had to take cars to get there. Before the race there was few hours to kill and we went to a superstore to get something to eat. Most of the guys bought just candy. So did Ari who was supposed to compete on 800m, like I did. There were six packages of liquorice next to us, between ice creams and other frosen articles. I joked that Ari should eat them all. And not for my great surprise he had a theory that if you eat loads of liquorice running will be easy. I couldn't keep straight face and I left him with the packages feeling good about the race with candy-filled mates...
First I was in the high school band hall sitting in concert formation with the band. We were all playing a song, but I was an octave too high. Foster (the band director when I was in high school) stopped us and was going to have Brandon (one of the star students while I was in band) demonstrate an octave that was too high on his trombone. I was jealous because I thought a flute was a much better instrument to demonstrate a tone that was too high.

When I put my flute away (in the brass room, for some reason), I found a note and a packet of papers. I tucked one of the papers into a strap on the side of my back-pack, and took the rest to Tasha, whose name was scribbled on them. When she got them, she realized that they were notes between her and someone else that she didn't remember writing. I explained that I had not read them so they were still confidential. I was about to leave when I realized I still had another paper of hers, and gave that one back, too. I don't think she believed that I hadn't read them. It hadn't ocurred to me, actually, and I was now a bit miffed at missing the chance.

I was late for programming class. I was running down the hall but my legs hurt so badly that I was half pushing myself along with my arms (like an ape). I finally got to the classroom, the other students were already working away like maniacs. I knew there would be no hope of me finishing. I sat down and read the assignments on the board, and started working. I believe I was doing pieces of all of the assignments at the same time. For some reason, I took off my pants. I thought it would be okay. I had another pair of pants with me that I was going to put on, and I layed them out beside me. But I didn't want to take a pause from working to put them on.

I was going to go out to the hall for some reason, I'm not sure why, but when I peeked my head out I saw a couple of guys from my class working at a table, and suddenly panicked about being in my underwear. I realized that it was *not* alright and I was wearing my ugliest pair of granny panties to top it off. I quickly sat back down, where I was joined by two girls in my class, neither of whom I considered to be very smart. Both were finished, and talking disruptively. I tried to pull the jeans on in as inconspicuosly as possible. I knew I had to go back to my work, even though I would not finish anyway, but the girls were talking and they were so stupid! How could they do it when I could not?

I felt like both a failure and a socially inept flop. I wanted to escape. Perhaps that was what prompted my waking. My first real-life thought was gratefulness that now I don't have to ever finish that work or face the people that saw me pantsless.


My car is in the middle of my street, pointing straight into my driveway. On each side of me in the street are two police cars, blocking my movement in any direction except straight forwards or backwards. A small crowd is observing the spectacle. I'm not sure why I'm in trouble, but one of my friends is trying to cause a distraction to allow me to escape. He is standing on one of those small band stages that they set up at county fairs for the crummy local bands, which has been placed in my neighbors’ yard. He speaks into a megaphone:

"Woody, this is YOUR driveway, IS - IT - NOT?"

I nod from inside my car.


In the dream it seemed like he had just said something extremely clever that indicated that I should floor it and drive my car into the driveway to escape. I wasn't even on my driveway, so I don’t know how I was expected to ‘GET OFF’ of it. Regardless, I understood him.

In my mind, I imagined the front wheels of my car spinning and smoking as I accelerated. Unfortunately, I drive a 2.2L 1984 LeBaron convertible, perhaps one of the slowest cars ever. What I really did was ease on the gas and start moving into the driveway at about 4 miles per hour as I ducked down in my seat.

Seeing my attempt to 'escape', a bystander drew what looked to be some kind of high-tech crossbow and fired it at me. He missed and hit my dad, observing from the open garage, in the arm. It turns out the weapon only looked like a crossbow, but was indeed just a rifle. I was pissed now.

I stopped my car in front of the porch and lept out in a rage.


I ran into the house just behind my dad. My anger was intense. I was planning on going upstairs and shooting the crossbow/rifle guy in his leg or foot or something. Just to hurt him, but not kill him. The only weapon I had available, however, was a BB gun.

"Dad, do we have anything bigger?"
"Yes, hold on."

I waited by the window as he went to grab the rifle that my parents think I don't know about. As I was waiting, the scene shifts...
My immediate family is inspecting the house of a close family friend who is about to pass away from a mysterious terminal illness. The house is more or less a mansion.

We quickly found the pool area, and my brother and my dad and I all hop into the hot tub. We are relaxing and enjoying ourselves, when all of a sudden miscellaneous teenagers start to show up. They are all from the class of 2002 at my former high school, now one year younger than I. Whenever they wander close to the hot tub they give us the stink-eye, like they belong in there, not us. My family wonders what is going on.

Soon, the daughter of our dying friend shows up, and we learn that she is taking this opportunity of not having any parents around to throw a big party. Our family all comments about how insensitive and inappropriate this is. Then...


An enormous noise. I am scared shitless. A close lightning strike in real life knocks out the power in my apartment, and I awaken.

I am home for the summer.

The streets are burning, so I seek refuge in a large cool-white building in a verdant meadow. At first it's wood-floor hallways are empty and echoing; but after wandering for them a while, brightly colored children, older than me, begin to populate the corners and the narrowing passages. Recognition dawns, I am in my old high school.


The number of silent students swell, and the hallways start to fill with body heat. I see a door that looks like the door to my old gym, the only one in the school with a window. That window was always broken; this one is clear and perfect. I touch the glass and it's blessedly cool. I duck through, and emerge in another hallway, bulging in the middle to the size of a large indoor soccer field. Isaac is there. We pass a soccer ball back and forth, but soon the obnoxious students start to fill our cool sanctuary, and it heats up again. I wonder why I didn't just go home.

"Where is everyone going?"
I ask one of them, and without him really answering, I know that Beck is here. Beck rocks, but I keep playing soccer because by now the halls are emptied again and the chatter has receded. I mention to Isaac about Beck, but he as strangely unconcerned as I am. We play more for a while, and then Isaac points. I turn and see that Beck is walking down the hallway with a horde of kids following him. I am watching myself now. Isaac and I walk right up to the pressing, yelling kids. Beck is dressed in some slacks and an aloha shirt. Isaac and I give him a slide five and follow him to another room.

Beck is playing with Bob Dylan and all of the kids are gone, except for the black-haired girl. Who is laying on the floor with me. I watch her eyes.

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