My dreams are an integral part of each 24 hour cycle. I don't view them in a voyeuristic sense, I see them as direct experience. They are lived, not watched like TV. ~~ Nick Bantock

Friday, June 18, 2004:

I was driving home. I lived way out in the country, and I surprised myself by knowing exactly where to turn to get there; it seemed strange, but I thought, well, I guess I've done it so many times that it's a habit.

As I drove, I noticed first one car, and then another, and then several cars, parked by the side of the road and caved in by either big tree limbs, or big trees themselves, that had fallen on the cars. It scared me, and I drove faster, hoping to avoid having my car, and thus me, crushed, too.

I got home safely, and was getting something in the pantry, when I noticed that there were a bunch of small flying insects in there, like gnats, and I knew that probably meant something was infested, but I shut the pantry door and went away, and once the door was closed, I forgot about it. I remembered later that I had meant to take care of it.

And then I was feeding the cats, but using a fork rather than a spoon, and then I was walking around closing the window blinds, but hadn't put on a shirt, and wondered if anyone would notice, or care.

Thursday, June 17, 2004:

I was working somewhere that had a recording studio attached to it, and Pat Metheny was in there with a band, recording. I walked up to the window and was moving a chair or something, and I knocked up against the window and totally screwed up the whole recording, apparently. They had been almost finished, but were now going to have to redo everything. I felt awful, but I pretended I didn't notice that they were grumbling.

There was a sign on the door for the band members that told them where to go to get a cup of chai tea, because they weren't allowed to drink Coke. I couldn't figure that out, then realized that it must be because of the bubbles making noise. And while I was thinking, I thought how surely they could just re-record the last portion of what they were playing, and not have to throw away everything that they had already done.

Eugene was there, and I asked him, "Do you know who that is?" and he didn't really, but I told him, and said that his music had been used in a lot of movie soundtracks; I stopped short of telling him that I had gone to high school with him, although I was thinking it.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004:

Bob showed up with a motorcycle. At first I thought he had just gone out and bought it, then somehow I realized that he had traded his van in for it, and I wondered what had happened to all the extra money, since surely a motorcycle cost less than a van . . .

I was wearing some kind of teal green jumpsuit sort of thing, and it seemed to surprise me, i.e., I didn't remember owning it. The fabric was kind of thick, and I realized that it must be some special kind of fabric that would be protective. We seemed to be preparing to go on a trip on the motorcycle, possibly camping, and I was worried about my purse and tote bag, since neither of them actually close on the top--I was worried things would fall out, or that they would get rain inside them.