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.

I'm at a family gathering at a large resort. I guess it's a resort, it's not very nice. It's kind of like a sprawling farm with lots of places for visitors to stay. There are a lot of family members here that I've never actually met. I am not thrilled about being here, but there's a girl I like around and I'm trying to spend as much time in the same rooms as her as possible. It's not totally working out as well as I'd like, though.

I walk outside and it's dark and there's some art outside. There's some straw on the ground, too. It might rain soon, or maybe it already rained. One of the pieces of art is an old-looking wooden shed, made of thick, dark wooden boards with black cast-iron hinges and little doors like you'd see on an antique stove. It doesn't have a big door, but the front wall is set back a little bit so that the roof hangs over, and you can stand under the little bit of roof and look at the hinges and doors and at a TV screen that is set into the wood. On the screen is footage of you, looking directly into the camera which must somehow be inside the screen. The footage is time-delayed, though, so when you make a face or thrust your hands toward the camera, you don't see it actually happen for a few moments, followed by all the confused expressions you made after the screen didn't show you your thrusting hands or goofy face. Every once in a while the little doors open and instead of coo-coo birds coming out it's a wobbly head, your head. I see my own blue-ish head wobbling out of one of the doors and I think, "Wow, I wonder how this art knows how to take my head off of my shoulders and the things behind me in the camera!"

I’m standing on what feels like a boat. I think it’s just the street, though. But it drops off sharply on either side. It’s like a street made of a bunch of concrete boats chained together. There’s some other kids on the “boat” that I’m on. There’s a multi-level blimp up in the air above us, and we’re near an airport, because planes keep showing up really close to our heads, flying over and down the direction of the street. They’re these new kind of planes, one guy is explaining how they’re the newest kind and they have four of some specific new engine part instead of having just one like the old ones did. They have a special new name, too, and they look a little bit futuristic and cool. One kid is flipping out about how close the planes are, he thinks he’ll be able to touch one, they’re that close. I’m standing near the edge of the street, facing away from the drop-off, and I watch one plane get way too close to this delighted kid, then soar up drunkenly and almost hit the blimp. It dawdles in the air for a while before it falls to the ground near our part of the street. We’re safe from the explosion and I’m actually quite excited about having been able to watch the whole crash and see it coming. We can’t see the wrecked plane, though, which bums me out a little, but we’re just too high up and since the street drops off so sharply, we can’t get a vantage point of the actual wreckage.

I have to fight somebody later and I throw them to the ground by pushing on their shoulders. I am a lot better at fighting then I thought and it makes me feel strong and powerful. “I am a tall guy,” I think, “Of course nobody should want to fuck with me!”