October 29th, Friday morning

I was in a lodge with a second floor balcony on the left of me and a large picture windows and fireplace on my right. There was dinner or cocktail party going on, and the room was decorated. I was holding a woman's hand, and we were doing some sort of Fellini love dance, and she asked me if I had been seeing anyone. I said no, and then I asked her the same question, and she answered the same. Then she introduced me to two men who she said she were her brothers, but they weren't really her brothers. Both of them were kind of short and geeky. And for some strange reason, I thought one of them was named Brie. So there I was, shaking the hand of one of her supposed brothers saying, "Oh, so you're Brie, I'm so glad to finally meet you," when he goes, "But, I am not Brie." So I turn to the other brother and see that he's dressed in a ballet tutu and is doing pirouettes around the room. I grab him by his tutu and ask him if he's Brie. Indignantly, with his nose in the air, he says, "I am certainly not Brie." While all this is going on, there's a sorority girl running around with a chunk of gouda cheese, hitting everyone on the butt with it. So I ask her "Are you Brie?" and she says, "No, I'm Camembert."

June 5th, Tuesday morning

I dreamt I was a deck hand on a Mexican fishing boat anchored in the middle of the bay. I was feeding rope to Lynn, who was dressed in a very nice blouse and bow ensemble with matching heels. While reaching down for more rope, I lost my footing and tumbled off the side, dragging Lynn in behind me. When we resurfaced, the boat had suddenly changed into a child's bathtup toy. For some reason, I was thinking all it needed were new batteries and sent Lynn off swimming to go find some. As she swam away, I yelled to her to make sure they were D-cell batteries, that way the little light on top of the boat would work too. As I floated in the water, I realized I was expecting a phone call from Lisa, who was supposed to be on the boat. I had originally backstroked my way to the boat wearing a skull cap and scuba jacket borrowed from a little girl that I was babysitting on the beach. The girl was one of many kids in cribs scattered amongst the sand dunes that I was supposedly keeping watch over. A TV news announcer floated by on a buoy doing a live report on how kids should watch themselves. A dinghy floated nearby, and both I and the news announcer jump in. As it floated towards shore, the announcer told me that business was bad on the beach -- the concession stand only had three customers today. The beach in the distance was very narrow, with tall mountains rising behind it, shrouded with fog. Looking at my watch, it read 9:27 pm.

June 22nd, Saturday morning

I follow a large group of people to a building with a courtyard on campus. I refer to it as the Beaux Arts Building or B.A. Hall, for short. I walk into the auditorium with another person and I sit down in the front row. I am about to take a final. I concentrate and realize that I have to pay extra attention so I don’t fail the test, like I did art history. The lecturer introduces the problem and I furiously scribble down my notes. Then the test begins. Instead of slides, were shown a movie. The first image is of a young man who vaguely looks like me, laying on a bed of mud in a very dark, black and white jungle setting. The trees, though, look like line drawings. I roll around in the ‘mud’ but don’t get dirty. I am saying something ‘heroic’ to the assembled tribesmen, who are dressed in white robes and KKK hoods. Suddenly, a man enters stage right with a large Y- shaped wooden club. He is old, wrinkled and dressed in overalls. Out of the side of his mouth dangles a corn-cob pipe. He raises the club with both hands above his head, and brings it down in a huge motion onto the young man’s head. The young man tries to roll away, but with his hands tied behind his back, all he can do is wiggle around the mud patch. The old man follows, beating him with the stick.in a slow, deliberate motion. Suddenly, the point of view moves backward. I watch as the landscape changes quickly. First I pass under a bridge spanning a river. Its still dark and the images look like night pictures. I continue to travel backwards, now crossing a river. The scenery is filled with industrial architecture - bridges, factories, siloes, gentry cranes. I look down and I see railroad tracks, though I am not on a train, just floating backwards above the track.. I look left and in the distance, an eerie sun begins to turn the night into reddish and purplish hues. I then come to the outskirts of a city, and the tracks separate, one set peels off and goes up a berm. There is a sign at the base of the slope. -- it says on it ‘Its like telling the Donner Party to stay away from the McNuggets” The movie ends, and I feel I finally understand some great truth. I turn to the person next to me to talk about the meaning of the sign. It is the old man with the club. He begins to write down my thoughts. I feel fufilled.

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