14:17 - July 18, 2002
ditching work
Last night I dreamt that Cam and I went to Mike E.'s house to see if he wanted to go skating, but he said he'd rather watch a movie, and took us inside. Somehow, this had pulled me away from work, so I had, in effect, worked a half hour day, because earlier I had gone home to change and then had no clothes so had to go shopping and then I guess I ran into Camille, who suggested going to Mike's. Even though it was 9:30 in the morning while I was shopping, it was dusk by the time we were standing in Mike's living room, petting the massive white cat that kept running through our legs. Just as we were about to slide the movie into the VCR (it was something in black and white about drummers), two women came into the room and said we weren't allowed to watch television this late at night, since Grandma was trying to sleep. Mike drooped visibly, so I suggested that we just bring the movie over to my house and watch it there. For some odd, insane reason, Mike took that to mean 'big party at Hannah's place'. He scooted over to the phone and began calling everyone he could think of. In less than four minutes, I found myself trooping over to my own house with lots of sophomores in tow, many of whom I distinctly remember babysitting for.

When we got to my house, people began setting up tents in my backyard. Mike pulled a twelve pack of beer from under his shirt and placed it under his tent. My house was made into a pit in very short order. The woodchips in the attic had spilled all the way downstairs and into my father's bedroom. My father sat at the computer, uncharacteristically calm. 'Just clean it up whenever...' he mumbled, absorbed in Windows solitaire. I ran up to the attic and told people to please stop throwing woodchips, and when I got up there I spotted Laura H. with a bunch of groupies, sitting on the couch. 'What are you doing?' I asked her.

'Shitting,' she said, despite the fact that she definitely wasn't.

'Ok,' I replied, and ran back down the stairs, where I found Mike having an earnest conversation with my dad over the merits of psychedelic mushrooms. My dad was nodding thoughfully as Mike, beer in hand, spewed facts right, left and center.

Suddenly, I was in a hotel being courted by two guys who I'd never really talked to; P.J. and D.R. P.J. wanted to take me swimming in the hotel pool, and D.R. wanted to go for a nice run in a grassy field. Both choices sounded enticing, so I did both, and played hard to get whenever they tried to kiss me, just because I felt like being bitchy. I hugged them goodbye and instantly decided I'd rather be with a girl; them being much sexier and all, so I found a girl wandering around on an island. In order to get with her, I was required to climb a rock face up to her cosy cabin. I did that quite easily, and we spent the rest of the day discussing exactly the location in which we would consummate our affair, and showering and primping to ready ourselves. However, I woke up before the big moment, and when I went back to sleep to try and pick up the dream, I was being cast out of heaven by a very wound-up, trembling God. He was chastising me, not for wanting to sleep with a girl, but for ditching work.

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