I'm in a school that is kind of like a mall crossed with a small stadium. I'm in a classroom that's up on a mezzanine level, looking out onto a courtyard that resembles a football field. There are lots of classrooms facing into this courtyard. To the left and right above us is a balcony on which these dudes are shooting tear gas grenades into the various classrooms. Some kind of siege is going on. Most of the other kids in the classroom I'm in are hiding behind desks. When tear gas grenades start coming in through the windows, I try to get people to run to the other side of the room so they're not in the blast. I whack one of the grenades back out the window with a chair, after it lands right near me. Then I go to the back of the classroom where there's a rack of shoulder-mounted rocket parts. I put a rocket into a launcher and creep along the wall so I can pop my head around the corner and put a rocket up on the balcony. I do it successfully, but the rocket doesn't explode right away, it just sits between two girls who are each holding small grenade launchers. One of them freaks because of the rocket and I watch her fall off the balcony to the courtyard below. It's grisly and I feel bad about it, but I have to look away quickly because they balcony dudes open fire in my direction. I sneak out of the classroom into this mall-esque setup and see a rack of shitty old rifles behind the glass wall of a different, empty classroom. I smash the glass with the butt of my rocket launcher and take a few rifles and give them to the cowering kids in the classroom, then look back out into the courtyard warzone where these two hipster kids that are on my side have busted out right into the courtyard, which I think means that we've "taken" it. The dudes on the balcony are outgunned and give up.

I'm in a huge crowd of people when I notice a guy and a girl (the guy about a foot taller than the girl?) with pieces of red fabric braided into a single braid on the side of both of their heads. I don't know how old they are but they make me feel young. I do not recognize them and I don't think they see me. "Hey!" I think, "Somebody else has a red piece of fabric braided into their hair? I thought that was my thing..."

I'm in this back yard that is full of people, most of whom I don't know. There's a man that has it in for me --like, I think maybe he wants me dead-- and he can turn into a hamster or rat. He is currently in rodent form in a fishtank that is on a pedestal in the middle of a fenced-off portion of the yard. The fenced-off part is overgrown with tons of weeds and tall grass and branches on the ground. I am talking to the rodent-man quietly, and he says something that makes me think he's going to get me real soon. I start screaming at him, causing a scene, because everybody thinks I'm just yelling at a hamster in a tank-- a hamster that a lot of people have been going up to and checking out because it's kind of a cute thing to have in the yard. The hamster gets out of the tank and runs away really fast, hopping a little bit. I run after it and do a really good job of not losing him, but I can't get quite close enough to grab him. People think I'm crazy, I guess, as I chase after this little hamster that is really a man. After a couple moments of following this guy and trying to grab him, I realize I'm no longer chasing a hamster but a tiny cheetah cub that must have been living in the overgrowth and frightened by my mad scramble to get the mouse-guy. I decide that the mouse-guy won't be a problem for now because there's so many people paying attention and I think that if I can catch the little cute cheetah cub, who is soft yellow like a chick with some thin white and black tiger stripes (no cheetah spots) that they will not think I'm crazy or at least forget about it while they pet the cheetah baby.

We're playing a show at some college. Roby has a friend here so she's off hanging out with her friend while Cale and Make Believe and I set up our gear on this little stage at a coffeehouse. The stage has that grey carpet that's like a bunch of hard little nubs, like the kind they sometimes have at kindegartens. We play and there's no breaks in between any of our songs. Then Make Believe plays and then we go outside for a while and see Roby sitting on the curb and then, like 20 or 30 minutes later, we all come back into the coffee shop to do one last song. All my gear is packed up in its box and I think, "Should I take it all out again or maybe just one or two pieces and play on this song like that?"

I'm going to work for some family that knows my family. I've never met them but they're upper middle-class heads and they're nice. They have a huge house with nice carpets and furniture and knick knacks and those glossy mahogany coffee tables. There's about 500 people walking around their house and walking up the street to some kind of Christmas pagent. I walk there, too, and I walk back. I'm by myself.