--I dream that I am on a beach with Salon reporter Walter Shapiro, at some big departmental/family gathering. As waves crash in and wash away sand castles, Shapiro starts making some point about how expensive it is to solar heat John Kerry's house, and what a hypocrite he is for this. I immediately cut him off and ream him out for parrotting Republican talking points. He tries to do the same with Hilary Clinton and other candidates, and I go into a long, theoretical discourse about why he's wrong, and how stupid he's being. I seem much more articulate and confident about this in the dream than I would be in real life. The odd thing is, Walter Shapiro doesn't really parrot Republican talking points in real life, although he is one of the more moderate reporters that site has. And why John Kerry?
--I dream that I am at a large party in this same summer home. Clarence Thomas is there, talking to Dick Cheney. Friends I haven't seen since middle school are also roaming around. I find it hard to connect with any of them, but also can't make myself leave. I try to sneak out through the front door, then the side, but I'm always caught.
--For some reason, in dream #3, we are shopping at night. We break into a comics store. I find a copy of Fantastic Four #42 for $124.
--Four of us are sharing an apartment whose spacial dimensions constantly shift. My friend finds pictures of me as a baby-- how? This isn't my house, or my parents', but some random domicile, and yet there are pictures of me around. Another friend falls asleep on the bed. I go to take a shower.