I was watching D play, and we seemed to be near the water, or maybe even on a boat.

After the show, we were talking, and he asked me to go turn down the volume on the radio; I reached around to the front of the radio, but it was dark, and I fumbled and got the wrong button, and changed the station instead, and he (in a chair with wheels) rolled over and said I that I should be more careful, that it was very difficult to set the stations on that radio.

I'm looking at my monitor at work, at an architectural firm's website, and say to someone, "Is this the site we're supposed to be re-doing?" Site shows movie-like tour of architectural firm campus. It's kind of cool, but not really the thing that I feel they should have. But cool nonetheless. Then I'm where the webmaster is, somewhere else in the building, and there's a huge poster she's put together about the site, sort of a newsletter. There's a kind of store there, like the YF store, where all the Christmas stuff is reduced; I pick up a couple of xmas ornaments, and look in a decorated bag, a silk bag decorated with watered silk ribbon.

There's a teddy bear inside, made of light colored fabric embroidered with rose-colored thread in little rosebuds or emblems of some kind. A woman walks up and says, "What's in there? Pajamas?" and when I say it's a bear, she pulls it out of my hand and won't give it back. I try to tug it away from her, but she won't give it up. I say, "Fuck you!" and walk away to the other side of the display, and hear her making fun of me to the woman she's with. It makes me furious, but I don't confront her.

I'm wandering around in a marginally bad part of town, get worried, and realize that I should have taken the car, so I'm going to have to walk back to where I left it. I'm carrying something, something like a sheaf of papers, held close to my chest. I can't remember what they were.

I get back to where I started from--a house that isn't mine--and there's a girl there that I think I know. I look at something that says her name, and I'm right--it's one of my closest friends from my childhood. [Actually, the name on the paper is the name of one of my clients, but it's similar to that of my childhood friend, and I know in the dream that it signifies her.]

I say something to her, and she remarks on my name being unusual, and says she's never heard of that name before. I'm shocked that she doesn't remember me, or at least remember my name, but I decide I'd rather not pursue it, and pretend I don't know her, either.

Another friend of mine, L., has been doing all these civic things, visiting the jail, etc., and I feel slightly guilty that I don't want to participate, but not enough that I actually do.

My sister (L) is involved, though, for some reason, and that annoys me, that she has sort of appropriated my friend, even though she's doing things I'm not interested in. I'm at my parents' house and she (L) says she and her family are going to get matching t-shirts to go to a party arranged by L., and did I think that was appropriate, and it makes me angry. I say I don't care what she does, I don't care if she goes, but I'm not going, and I say "Fuck!" out loud, then feel bad about that, because I'm at my parents' house . . .

I slam out of the room and go to the bathroom, but as I'm getting up from the toilet, I hit the tank and it pulls away from the wall, and water starts rushing out into the room.

I try to put it back on the wall, while yelling for my dad, and realize that I locked the door.

I yell, "Dad!", then "Daddy!", then "Mom!", then, quieter, "Help!"

I pick up a pair of feathered wings. The wings are made of ruby-colored feathers and decorated with a row of gold spangles or coins or a similar type of decoration along the flat edge. I put them on--they are made with two straps like backpack straps. Then I go outside, and I am leading a group of people who are marching down the street singing a song from The Wizard of Oz. It doesn't seem to be "We're Off to See the Wizard," but some other song from the movie (were there any other songs in the movie? Ah--"Somewhere Over the Rainbow.").

I'm taking a bath. I get out of the tub, and step into water. The floor is flooded to adepth of several inches, with green plant stuff floating in it. I walk through to the bedroom, and it's flooded, too, and there's some kind of greenhouse, so that may be where the green stuff is coming from. I don't want to wake Bob up, but I may have to . . . When when I get into the bedroom, he's getting up to go to the other bathroom, so I wait. When he comes out, I say, "We have a water problem."

I'm visiting my parents' house, and there are big orange and white flowers at around the tree and next to the street. I compliment her on them, and she complains about the place where she bought them, that she had to walk back to the store to get the instruction/description sheet.

While I was there, I noticed that my dad's truck in the driveway is full of mail for my old place of work -- Compuware? I start to sort it, then get distracted, and leave, forgetting to take it home with me.

I was somewhere that seemed to be a combination restaurant/golf shop. Maybe a pro shop of some sort with an attached coffee shop. There was a radio on my table, and I was trying to find a station I liked--trying to find NPR--but there weren't any pre-set buttons and I couldn't figure out how to change the frequency.

I'm worrying a little that my messing around with the radio is disturbing the other customers, and I look around for some headphones,then I see that I've been provided with a headset. It's kind of a weird one, almost like a boxer's helmet. It's a specific kind, but I can't remember what the label said.

It's like a full-head thing, and really large. I place it over my ears, but it's loose, and I reluctantly realize that I'm going to have to fasten the chinstrap, too. So I do, and it's fine.

Then I go to the counter to pay for a couple of small items that I've purchased, and I have a hard time getting the attention of the clerk. I remark to the person I'm with, "Why are golf shop people always so rude?" and then we're at some sort of vending machine that takes credit cards; I have made two purchases, both over $300--this one $340, and I'm a little worried that I don't have that much money in my debit account, and wonder if I should have handled it some other way, but then my purchase is delivered--a stack of printouts of legal papers for Bob's father--and I realize it's too late to change my mind.