<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:23:55.356-05:00</updated><category term='animals'/><category term='harp'/><category term='teeth'/><category term='buffy'/><category term='gun'/><category term='airplane'/><category term='dream within a dream'/><category term='death'/><category term='shopping'/><category term='worms'/><category term='knife'/><category term='missed flight'/><category term='peeing'/><category term='doll'/><category term='vampire'/><category term='public speaking'/><category term='cemetery'/><category term='travel'/><category term='work people'/><category term='water'/><category term='dancing'/><category term='action'/><category term='hiding'/><category term='family'/><category term='celebrity'/><category term='computer'/><category term='natural disaster'/><category term='nose'/><category term='work'/><category term='car'/><category term='children'/><category term='tornado'/><category term='recorded'/><category term='dirt'/><category term='photography'/><category term='demons'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='kidnapping'/><category term='music'/><category term='dream'/><category term='school'/><category term='commentary'/><category term='themes'/><category term='bubble'/><category term='fire'/><category term='church'/><category term='escape'/><category term='food'/><category term='house'/><category term='nuns'/><category term='disease'/><category term='bathroom'/><category term='snow'/><category term='drugs'/><title type='text'>The Dreams of Dan</title><subtitle type='html'>Selected dreams from my dream journal</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>55</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3647904440439241336</id><published>2012-01-12T18:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T18:32:20.943-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disease'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recorded'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><title type='text'>The One With The Liver Cancer</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I had a tumor on my liver that had metastasized. &amp;nbsp;The dream occurred on a Friday and a dentist was due to remove my liver on the following day, in the evening. &amp;nbsp;It wasn't a transplant - they were just going to remove the liver, but it meant I was going to die - they essentially were going to put me down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the whole dream, I knew that I had about a day and a half to live and most of the dream was trying to get everything in order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wrapped up work where I'm currently employed and went to the place where I worked previously and returned a folder of work that I had kept with me for many years for some reason. &amp;nbsp;I was trying to make sure that all the loose ends of my life were tied up. &amp;nbsp;Mxxx, a lady I worked with was still there and I returned the work to her and updated her with what needed to be done. &amp;nbsp;Outside her office was Kxxx, I guy I worked for at my current employer and he was sitting at the desk in his office, but the desk was pushed against the door frame, with him facing out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I remember being in a house with a little African American girl that I don't think I knew in the dream, but I was telling her about stuff. &amp;nbsp;She was probably about 8 or 9 and she said, "Do you know what you're doing? &amp;nbsp;You're saying goodbye." &amp;nbsp;I said that I knew, and I started crying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was outside in her yard and the kids from her large family were walking in a line, single file, toward the house. &amp;nbsp;There were probably 10 or 12 kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to my parents' house next, and my mother and father were doing some work in the garage. &amp;nbsp;I asked my mom to call the dentist and ask for another week so I could have more time to get my life in order. &amp;nbsp;I wanted to sit down with my parents and let them know how my stuff and money needed to be allocated out. &amp;nbsp;My mom said that they wouldn't do it, but I remember telling her that it doesn't hurt to ask.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While my mom was making the call, I left the garage and stood in the driveway with my sister. &amp;nbsp;The little girl down the street was playing in the road near her house and I hid behind a tree so that she wouldn't see me and come over. &amp;nbsp;But the little girl's mother threw a frisbee into a large bush in my parents' yard, so the little girl headed over. &amp;nbsp;While I was in the driveway waiting, I heard my mom tell the doctor's office that the little girl had said that she was upset because Uncle Dan had pouty lips and looked confused. &amp;nbsp;She made that up to try to convince them to move the appointment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom finished the call, and the administrative assistant named Joanne told her that the doctor wouldn't or couldn't move the appointment and that I'd just have to resent it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up in real life, recorded my dream on my phone, and when I went back to sleep I re-entered the dream. &amp;nbsp;The only thing I remember from the second round was that Jxxx was ignoring me even though I was dying. &amp;nbsp;He said that he had other stuff to do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3647904440439241336?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3647904440439241336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3647904440439241336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3647904440439241336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3647904440439241336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2012/01/one-with-liver-cancer.html' title='The One With The Liver Cancer'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-7661662171852002164</id><published>2011-06-19T11:50:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-19T11:51:57.982-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='harp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with Deborah Henson-Conant</title><content type='html'>The details of this dream are vague for me - I got paged for work at 2:00 and realized I had been dreaming...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamed that I was a big outside music festival with a female friend I can't identify now. &amp;nbsp;It was night and it was one of those festivals with multiple stages with one large main stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We walked by &lt;a href="http://www.hipharp.com/"&gt;Deborah Henson-Conant&lt;/a&gt; who was either in transition with her equipment or she was setting up to do her show just on the side of the sidewalk, similar to what she does in real life sometimes. &amp;nbsp;I stopped to say "hi" and take a photo with her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend took the camera and I went to Deborah's left and we put an arm around each other like you normally do in a photo, but she kept leaning really far to the right, making us fall to the ground. &amp;nbsp;We tried a couple of times but I don't think we ever got the photo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-7661662171852002164?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/7661662171852002164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=7661662171852002164' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7661662171852002164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7661662171852002164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2011/06/one-with-deborah-henson-conant.html' title='The One with Deborah Henson-Conant'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-4997635696219586616</id><published>2011-06-09T22:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T22:55:25.479-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natural disaster'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tornado'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='airplane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Tornado and Plane</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="431235912-09062011"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic';"&gt;Background:&amp;nbsp; I had this dream exactly a week after the tornado that went by work, after talking about it with friends and after driving home in a crazy lighting storm.&amp;nbsp; There was another really LOUD storm the night I had the dream but I'm not sure if the dream was before, after, or during that storm.&amp;nbsp; I believe it was before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="431235912-09062011"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="431235912-09062011"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic';"&gt;I had a dream that a tornado was heading toward me - I was outside but don't recall the exact location.&amp;nbsp; I know other people were around.&amp;nbsp; We were looking up into the funnel cloud and saw the tail of an airplane that had been caught into the tornado and it was swinging around from the right to left.&amp;nbsp; It was moving pretty slowly (assuming because the plane was HUGE).&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="431235912-09062011"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="431235912-09062011"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic';"&gt;It started coming down toward me and I knew it was going to fall on me, but it was not falling quickly.&amp;nbsp; So, I watched the plane as it came down and I positioned myself so I wouldn't get smooshed.&amp;nbsp; I ended up crouching down between the fuselage and the wing - kind of the left armpit of the plane.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="431235912-09062011"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="431235912-09062011"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic';"&gt;Once the tornado passed, we looked at the plane and noticed that although the doors were shut and the windows were not broken, there was no one inside and we assumed that they had someone gotten sucked out while up in the air.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-4997635696219586616?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/4997635696219586616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=4997635696219586616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4997635696219586616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4997635696219586616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2011/06/one-with-tornado-and-plane.html' title='The One with the Tornado and Plane'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-125369614379726044</id><published>2011-04-22T12:38:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T22:00:17.183-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='disease'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nose'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Tobiko In My Nose</title><content type='html'>I was talking with someone from work and they commented that my nostrils looked strange - they were closed like if you pinch your nose shut. &amp;nbsp;I thought it was weird that I didn't notice a change in my breathing and looked in a mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My nose did feel a bit clogged, so I stuck my finger in one nostril and felt something, so I kind scooped and some tobiko came out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was very concerned in the dream and went to a doctor and they said that I had a disease. &amp;nbsp;That's all I remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-125369614379726044?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/125369614379726044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=125369614379726044' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/125369614379726044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/125369614379726044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2011/04/one-with-tobiko-in-my-nose.html' title='The One with the Tobiko In My Nose'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-2480405246092987342</id><published>2011-03-26T07:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T07:02:45.714-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doll'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bubble'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Dream Within a Dream</title><content type='html'>I had a dream within a dream this morning, and what was strange was that the second dream was more normal than the first. &amp;nbsp;In the first, the only thing I really remember was being in a parking lot outside, and a group of kids with a couple of adults doing some activity with dolls and all of a sudden they took all the clothes off the dolls, but the dolls had realistic breasts and that was really funny in the dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point, I remembered I had a dream and started writing about it. &amp;nbsp;In the second dream, my friends Meredith and Greg were in California stuck on highway 1 (which they are in real life, and were in "real life" in the 1st level dream). &amp;nbsp;While they were stuck in the 2nd level dream, they went to some restaurant and were taking a ton of photos and videos of them doing funny things. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were about 7 people and they had 4 people in a booth and 3 in a small table and they kept moving the small table around - close to the booth, further, and taking all kinds of pictures of them laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they were trying to catch bubbles in their mouths in the parking lot and there was one video where the bubble popped and got soap into a girl's mouth and she gagged (well more like dry heaved) and it was the most hilarious thing to watch in the 1st level dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-2480405246092987342?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/2480405246092987342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=2480405246092987342' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2480405246092987342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2480405246092987342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2011/03/one-with-dream-within-dream.html' title='The One with the Dream Within a Dream'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-2857979738992192500</id><published>2011-03-19T08:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T08:35:40.605-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teeth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='themes'/><title type='text'>Dream Themes:  Loose/Missing Teeth</title><content type='html'>I had a friend ask me about dreams where your teeth are loose or falling out and I knew that I had several dreams with this theme, and have even heard references to it on shows like 30 Rock. &amp;nbsp;So, let's look that one up:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Lose a tooth and you are afraid of losing a loved one. &amp;nbsp;Lose all of them and you are full of anxieties about the future." (1)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Dreaming of teeth falling out may represent insecurity. These dreams often occur at a time of transition... When you lost your milk teeth, you also gradually lost your childhood innocence. Losing your teeth today therefore shows that today you have similar feelings of uncertainty and self-consciousness as you did in childhood. The dream could also highlight your worries about getting older or your sexual attractiveness." (2)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Im Tofeeq, a Palestinian woman, told me that among the Arabs it is believed that if you dream of losing teeth it means your brother or son is in trouble. She had a dream in which three of her teeth fell out. The next day she received a call from America to say her son had been shot in the head three times by a gunman." (3)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my own experience, I always had a sense of fear during these dreams that I would be ugly, so I'm guessing in my case it's insecurity about how I look. &amp;nbsp;My other insecurities tend to play out in my dreams in other ways, I guess, like being chased or being in perilous situations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(1) Grant, Russell. &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Illustrated-Dream-Dictionary-Russell-Grant/dp/1402742096?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;The Illustrated Dream Dictionary&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=1402742096" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(2) Hamilton-Parker, Craig. &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Remembering-Understanding-Dreams-Craig-Hamilton-Parker/dp/0806987510?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;Remembering &amp;amp; Understanding Your Dreams&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0806987510" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(3) Crisp, Tony. &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Dream-Dictionary-Guide-Understanding-Unconscious/dp/0440237076?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;link_code=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969" target="_blank"&gt;Dream Dictionary: An A to Z Guide to Understanding Your Unconscious Mind&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;l=btl&amp;amp;camp=213689&amp;amp;creative=392969&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=0440237076" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important;" width="1" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-2857979738992192500?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/2857979738992192500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=2857979738992192500' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2857979738992192500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2857979738992192500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2011/03/dream-themes-loosemissing-teeth.html' title='Dream Themes:  Loose/Missing Teeth'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-4809888084402882304</id><published>2010-08-02T06:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T06:14:27.649-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recorded'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='knife'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One With the Movie About Violent Sleep Disorders</title><content type='html'>I was in a large department store in the men's department looking at some sandals that were just basically regular black shoes with lots of the leather cut out to make them strappy - there were lots of straps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was trying to find a pair that was 1/2 a size smaller than the ones I tried on but I was surprised that the size 31's fit me as well as they did - they ran small obviously because I normally wore a 29 or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being in a department store in a normal situation turned into it being night, after closing, and instead of being the retail sales floor, it was the warehouse or storage area of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was after closing, but there were a number of people in there looking around. &amp;nbsp;I remember a girl and a blond guy in addition to me. &amp;nbsp;I think the girl either had a bike or was looking for one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a weird role in the dream. &amp;nbsp;The idea of the dream was that it was actually a movie. &amp;nbsp;I was kind of at the same time just a 3rd party observer and one of the main characters, it seemed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The premise of the movie was some people that had sleep disorders so when something in life bothered them (say, being touched by other people), they would react in their sleep (like sleepwalking).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One guy with dark hair (I couldn't really tell if he was me or not) didn't like to be touched and would kick people in the head (I think he explained it that he would kick you in the eye) in his sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I also remember "being" a different person (feeling like what it was to be inside them, kind of) and his reaction was just less-specific violence. &amp;nbsp;I remember the feeling picking someone up by the neck and holding them against a wall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were two other guys looking for shoes (sneakers) but they were moving stuff around. &amp;nbsp;They put stuff really high up on a fixture in the middle of the floor, and I remember while looking around some of the shoe boxes fell on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These two guys were up to no good, unlike the rest of us who were just looking around. &amp;nbsp;Once the boxes fell, the bad guys got agitated and wanted our contact information. &amp;nbsp;We questioned that and the blond kid explained that they wanted our e-mail addresses, etc. so they could place us in the warehouse to prevent us from snitching on them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the bad guys were agitated, they were pushing us around and grabbing our arms and stuff and at least one of us warned them not to touch us because of the disorders.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing I remember was being "inside" another guy - a black guy - who was walking home. &amp;nbsp;I think he was in the warehouse (good guy - one of&amp;nbsp;a total of 4 good people in the warehouse who were the main characters in the movie with sleep disorders) but don't remember seeing him beforehand. &amp;nbsp;He walked by this hooker who was lying on the sidewalk and people were pouring gas on her and set her on fire. &amp;nbsp;She was strung out on heroine so she didn't know what was going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They tried to lay another hooker (not as strung out) next to her and do the same and they snuggled up to each other, as if to protect each other from sleeping on the sidewalk. &amp;nbsp;They were both on fire, but it took a while for the first hooker to exhibit some distress - she was waving her arms around and the second wrapped her in a the foil lined blanket they were lying on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first hooker died, but the second was fine (even though she was exposed to the flames), so one of the bad people (I think it was a short woman that reminded me to Snookie) stabbed her in the stomach with a really big kitchen knife - shaped like chef's knife but much wider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems as those the bad guys in the warehouse were in a gang or something and were killing people to establish a serial killer or something - maybe as something to implicate us in? &amp;nbsp;I think they wanted to find six people to kill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dude I was inside kept walking toward home, up a hill, when some guy jumped him from behind, pulled his hoodie over his head and tried to tie the strings. &amp;nbsp;I remember thinking this was a normal risk in his neighborhood - to get mugged this way. &amp;nbsp;The guy/me ended up throwing the guy over his shoulder, Judo style, kind of down the hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy left because there was a cop car whose dash camera was filming the whole thing. &amp;nbsp;The car belonged to the guy's uncle or dad, who he lived with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He got to the porch where his aunt or mom was with his dad, and they were like "What the hell's going on?" &amp;nbsp;In his head he knew these bad people were trying to get something or had something on him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-4809888084402882304?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/4809888084402882304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=4809888084402882304' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4809888084402882304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4809888084402882304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-with-movie-about-violent-sleep.html' title='The One With the Movie About Violent Sleep Disorders'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3701208056869191532</id><published>2010-08-01T13:02:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T15:37:24.941-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commentary'/><title type='text'>Dream Symbols:  Guns</title><content type='html'>I've had several &lt;a href="http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/search/label/gun"&gt;dreams involving guns&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the theories out there is that the gun represents a penis or male sexuality. More generally, it can represent fears or anxieties - threats in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weapons in general can represent conflict, anger or resentment in life. &amp;nbsp;It's interesting all the weapons that have shown up in my dreams are phallic in nature, though: &amp;nbsp;wooden stakes, guns, knives. &amp;nbsp;I wonder if women have dreams of different kinds of weapons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many of my dreams involve me being shot at, or other people being shot or shot at. &amp;nbsp;According to my &lt;a href="http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/10/dream-books.html"&gt;dream books&lt;/a&gt;, this can represent fear of being hurt or being threatened. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't recall ever having shot a person in my dreams - most often both the shooter and the person being shot / shot at are not me. &amp;nbsp;I'm not really sure what it means that I'm removed from the action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Update: &amp;nbsp;I polled some people to find out what weapons have shown up in their dreams. &amp;nbsp;I'll keep adding as I hear more:]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;babies in canons [male dreamer, used against others]&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;giant chopsticks [male dreamer, used against others]&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;used iPhones [male dreamer, used against dreamer (thrown)]&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3701208056869191532?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3701208056869191532/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3701208056869191532' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3701208056869191532'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3701208056869191532'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2010/08/dream-symbols-guns.html' title='Dream Symbols:  Guns'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-6842867803059466462</id><published>2010-07-31T06:19:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:22:51.024-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dancing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nuns'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recorded'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kidnapping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Christmas'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Ice Dancing, Graduation, and Hostage Convent</title><content type='html'>The first thing I remember is dancing with a guy ballroom-style. &amp;nbsp;He was tall and I think someone I was dating. &amp;nbsp;I was leading and we were dancing waltz (and it seemed to fit) but then I realized the song was in 4/4 so I tried dancing the rhumba twice as fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a bunch of guys there dancing around too, I think Keith from work was there too. &amp;nbsp;At one point we decided we were ice dancing (but not on ice - we were outside at a park plaza or on a wide sidewalk or near a fountain or something like that and it was nighttime). &amp;nbsp;So we were kind of sliding around and trying spinning jumps once in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the guy went and got a bunch of mortar boards (graduation hats) that were different colors for different designations: &amp;nbsp;I was getting black because I was going to be a consultant, he was getting blue because he was getting his doctorate (and in the dream that meant he was going on to continue to get his PhD) and red was for master's degrees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then things changed over to a bunch of my friends graduating. &amp;nbsp;The guys were gone and everyone seemed to be hispanic female friends of mine, none of which seemed to be people I recognize as friends in real life. &amp;nbsp;Although graduation wasn't that day, we were taking all kinds of pictures of them in their mortar boards. &amp;nbsp;When we were talking about when graduation actually was, we were speaking both English and Spanish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For one of the photos, the girls getting master's degrees were standing behind a Christmas tree and to all get behind it (since there were 7 or 8) some had to stand on something. &amp;nbsp;I was trying to take pictures, but there were a bunch of other people trying to take pictures with a bunch of cameras, so it was hard to get them all to look at one camera. &amp;nbsp;But then I realized you couldn't see any of them through the tree, anyway. &amp;nbsp;What kind of seemed like their eyes showing through were just the Christmas lights.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things kind of broke up from there and people started wandering around. &amp;nbsp;There was a big building that was both inside and outside - like a building with walls but no roof - maybe like a plaza in Spain. &amp;nbsp;Some of the girls went into that building and I followed. &amp;nbsp;Inside there were a bunch of shady looking guys walking around. &amp;nbsp;They looked like they were in a gang or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the corner, four of the girls were in what looked like a photo book with a short curtain so you could see their legs. &amp;nbsp;Two were jammed together facing the back, and it appeared two more were sitting on the other two's shoulders. &amp;nbsp;I thought that was funny, so I took a picture of them getting the picture taken in the booth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a couple more photos in the building before wandering out. &amp;nbsp;A guy ran over to me waving wildly telling me to get out of there. &amp;nbsp;He said that a bunch of guys broke into the building, tripped the alarm and police were on their way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realized that the building was actually a Diesel store, the girls were in a dressing room and they were probably going to get into trouble for being in there, although they wandered in there by mistake just like I did. &amp;nbsp;I also realized that I got a photo of two of the gang members while taking pictures inside, so I turned on my video function and started to try discretely filming to capture as many of the gang members as possible when they start to leave when the police arrive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started going back to the building, which at this point seemed to be bigger, have a roof and have a big black iron fence around it. &amp;nbsp;All these nuns in different outfits started pouring out, in a hurry, some praying, some yelling "Save us! &amp;nbsp;Save us!". &amp;nbsp;There were different groups that had different colored habits. &amp;nbsp;There seemed to be non-nuns with them, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the regular people was Mary from work and she was sitting down just outside the fence talking about her ordeal of being held against her will. &amp;nbsp;She was talking with Lisa (who was not held inside but had run over) about how they were all praying, and it seemed as though the room was spinning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran over and said to Lisa, "You know Mary too?! &amp;nbsp;How??" &amp;nbsp;She said she did and I joked that it was because she was a whore (meaning the social butterfly kind, not an actual whore).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my alarm went off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-6842867803059466462?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/6842867803059466462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=6842867803059466462' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/6842867803059466462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/6842867803059466462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2010/07/one-with-ice-dancing-graduation-and.html' title='The One with the Ice Dancing, Graduation, and Hostage Convent'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-4079303787828377923</id><published>2010-05-13T15:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T15:58:56.093-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One With the Grim Reaper</title><content type='html'>One of my horror movie dreams. &amp;nbsp;There was a town and this serial killer / mass murderer was hanging out there killing people off. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A kid said to me in the dream that the killer was there just to make headlines but he had a feeling he would end up killing off about a third of the town’s population. &amp;nbsp;I remember going to some dinner when I knew he would be coming and killing people but I hid in some little room that kind of was like a confessional. &amp;nbsp;I also remember him appearing on top of some big structure dressed like the grim reaper and killing some kid with the scythe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-4079303787828377923?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/4079303787828377923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=4079303787828377923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4079303787828377923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4079303787828377923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2010/05/one-with-grim-reaper.html' title='The One With the Grim Reaper'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-1171735666634368605</id><published>2010-05-08T14:51:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:37:40.396-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with Embossing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: medium;"&gt;I had a meeting just outside of the office of the president where I work - like the waiting area for his office.  We were troubleshooting some problem and I was working on a laptop.  Once we were done with the meeting, I was looking around the room and found this round, metal disc with some kind of writing engraved on it.  I couldn't tell what the writing was, so for some reason, I pressed it into the back of my hand so it became kind of embossed in my skin like a notary's stamp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of that stamp, I think either the president or someone else saw it but I ended up getting promoted because of the stamp.  It was like that was the way they marked people as special. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in another meeting, this time I think with an executive and some other people and ended up getting stamped by another executive but this time on my forearm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing I remember was being with some other people who got stamped - I think in a van - and we were talking about how we had our pay statements intercepted by a guy I work with but he just made sure they we got our raises - because of the stamps we got big increases in salary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also remember the executive who stamped me telling me to stamp a woman I work with.  I found someone with that name and stamped her but she was very old - like too old to promote, and I realized I stamped the wrong wrong.  So I had to find the right one.  I think that part too place in a big mansion instead of a workplace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point the others that got promoted and I were near some area of the company - like a back gate, and we were trying to get somewhere but you couldn't get there from where we were because the entrance was too congested... at least that was what we said.  I just remember a tunnel-like entrance outside the gate leading underground at an angle.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-1171735666634368605?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/1171735666634368605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=1171735666634368605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1171735666634368605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1171735666634368605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2010/05/one-with-embossing.html' title='The One with Embossing'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3784040786835535394</id><published>2010-01-15T11:12:00.010-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T11:16:30.873-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>The One with the Big Layoff</title><content type='html'>I was in my cubicle at work and everyone was looking out the windows. &amp;nbsp;There was a bunch of people outside and I think they laid off a whole division or sub and we were watching them leave all at once, kind of like a fire drill. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back to my cubicle and three of us were sitting in my cube with Mike (who didn't say a word), eating breakfast. &amp;nbsp;I was trying to tell Jeff about a dream I had with him in it, but there were two ladies who looked like lesbians who kept trying to listen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told them I couldn't tell the dream with them there but they didn't leave, and finally I said 'SHOO!' &amp;nbsp;And one said, "Was it a dream that they came and found porn on your work computer because you're so adorable?" &amp;nbsp;I said, "Yeah that's it! &amp;nbsp;Shoo!!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was eating something that I can't remember, Sarah was eating red jello and Jeff had creamy rice with peaches. &amp;nbsp;Sarah tried some of the rice and peaches but mixed it with her jello and was like, urm.... &amp;nbsp;I thought about trying it but I asked Jeff if he was sick and he said yes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3784040786835535394?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3784040786835535394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3784040786835535394' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3784040786835535394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3784040786835535394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2010/01/one-with-big-layoff.html' title='The One with the Big Layoff'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-2875735419207539261</id><published>2009-12-13T08:21:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T13:07:29.675-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>The One with the Used Toothpicks</title><content type='html'>Just before waking up this morning, but after my alarm had gone off, I had a dream that I was in a kitchen.  It was in an apartment and not one that I recognized.  My sister was eating some kind of roll and it looked like it had finely chopped broccoli on top of it and she was eating only the topping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I asked her about the rolls and I cut one in half and put it in the toaster.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next thing I remember was that I was outside with Debbie and one other person - maybe Jose.  We were in a town with lots of eclectic shops.  I wasn't sure if it was a big or small.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We went into a small shop that had all hand-made baked goods like poppy seed muffins and little loaves of sweet bread.  I was thinking of getting a muffin but don't think I did.  Debbie got something though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At the cash register, they had a refrigerator and the door had a sign that they reused toothpicks and that they washed them and you could put the used ones in little holes in the door.  I had a toothpick so I put it in one.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we were in the store I remember that I had put the roll in the toaster and never taken it how, and was thinking how it could get stuck and cause a fire.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When we were leaving, I did something and accidentally stuck my knuckle in Deb's eye.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-2875735419207539261?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/2875735419207539261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=2875735419207539261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2875735419207539261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2875735419207539261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/12/one-with-used-toothpicks.html' title='The One with the Used Toothpicks'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3660938362310830668</id><published>2009-12-02T19:44:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:16:44.236-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recorded'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Horrible Customer Service</title><content type='html'>I had a dream I was at the Big E (a big fair) with my parents, my sister and Jose.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was at a vendor that sold a bunch of things, but included was health and beauty products and I bought the &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000VSG1PO?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;tag=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;linkCode=as2&amp;amp;camp=1789&amp;amp;creative=390957&amp;amp;creativeASIN=B000VSG1PO"&gt;Shu Uemura Eyelash Curler - -&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;l=as2&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;a=B000VSG1PO" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px !important;" width="1" /&gt; that my friend Janessa had told me about.  This one didn't have the metal bar where the pad attaches though... it worked really weird - like just the pad itself moved.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I wasn't sure if it was the right one (I couldn't remember the name for obvious reasons) and I called Jill to double check, and when the phone rang I could hear it - she was working at the vendor part time.  The vendor also did plastic surgery and had an oxygen bar in another room.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I bought the curler, but when I looked at it, there was something wrong with the pad, and I wanted to get another one.  They left to get it (another saleswoman, not Jill) and were gone for like a half an hour, and when they returned, it had a different pad on it that wasn't as thick as the original.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Apparently the new pads weren't as thick, and I wasn't sure if I wanted it anymore.  They left to get another one, were gone another half hour and came back with a bag.  They said they included $120 worth of free stuff in the bag and the original price was $30.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I looked in the bag and it was all purple and pink thread - like big spools of leftover thread.  I said, "So you gave me a pound of crap I don't need or want?  I want my money back."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The sales woman said, "Well, I don't want to do that, but I guess I have to."  She gave me this piece of paper that was a form I needed to fill out and sign and a blue highlighter-type pen.  The paper was blank, but was the form was in that ink that you have to go over with the pen to make the text appear.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I pitched a fit, so they gave me a pre-printed form that I signed.  I think on that version there was like a Frequently Asked Questions section and there was a question about how the invisible ink form was ridiculous and why did they do it?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;They gave me my money back but in all quarters.  I was so mad a yelling and swearing at the woman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I left, I pretended that the woman pushed me and I fell, saying "Did you see that?  She pushed me!"  I wanted to make her life a living hell.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A woman was with me (not my sister) when I bought the curler... I think it might have been my friend Melany or Ileana.   I remember a guy walking into the vendor area wearing really crazy clown-like clothes and me making a comment to her about it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3660938362310830668?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3660938362310830668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3660938362310830668' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3660938362310830668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3660938362310830668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/12/one-with-horrible-customer-service.html' title='The One with the Horrible Customer Service'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-6352386601224167541</id><published>2009-11-30T21:44:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T08:29:25.526-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recorded'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>The One at Taco Bell</title><content type='html'>I stopped at the Taco Bell in Westfield, and it was generally in the same location as the real one, although the stores and parking lot layout around it was different.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was a larger-than-normal building for Taco Bell, and divided in half cross-wise.  If you were looking at the front door from the outside, the left was where you ordered and there was one of those people corrals, and the right was where the seating was and there was a second entrance on the side.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Also, it was one of those Taco Bells that had another restaurant in the same location.  I can't remember what the other restaurant was, though.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had to park pretty far away from the entrance because there were so many handicapped spots.  I ended up parking near a gas station where the attendants looked really grubby and shady.  I was wary about the safety of my car (which I think was the same as my real-life one) but since it was near the gas station, I figured it was all right.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I started ordering at the counter and the cashier asked for my drink order first.  Then John came in and she took his drink order before I had ordered the rest of my meal.  Then another woman from work, Sara, came in and she took her drink order too.  I knew it was weird and was kind of annoyed, but since I knew everyone I was OK at this point.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When Sara was asked about her drink, she asked when the last time they had Lysol'd - she said, "Is your Lysol fresh?"  The cashier said, "Yes..."  And Sara asked, "Well, what's the date on the Lysol?" and the woman said 8/21/2009.  Sara said, "Oh, 2009.  Great!  But I'm not going to get anything to drink."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We were all confused, and Sara said that on that date the weather was good.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next, a guy I didn't know came in and put in his drink order, and at this point I was getting annoyed because I was really hungry and still hadn't put my food order in.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And still, Andrea came in and put her drink order in.  I knew it was Andrea ******** in the dream, but when I had to sign her receipt, I had to sign her last name that was only four letters, although I don't remember the name. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We put in our food orders, and I had coupons in my black bag.  I had one for a drink coupon, which I asked about and woman didn't know I had given it to her (there was something else to this, but I can't understand what I said on the dictation machine!).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Andrea had gone out to her car for some reason and it was time to start signing the credit card receipts.  I thought at first that the woman put everything on my credit card, but someone she had rung them up all separately.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was starving and Andrea was outside, so I was going to sign it for her, and I wrote out "Andrea" and was about to write that four-letter last name and the man asked if she knew I was doing that when Andrea came back in.  She saw what I was doing and said, "No, you can't do that, how dare you!"  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She took the pen and was going to finish when I woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-6352386601224167541?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/6352386601224167541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=6352386601224167541' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/6352386601224167541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/6352386601224167541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/11/one-at-taco-bell.html' title='The One at Taco Bell'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-4347912675018173177</id><published>2009-11-26T10:31:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:47:59.555-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Video Store Shooting</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px typo3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I was in a video store with a friend of mine (don&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font: 13.0px Lucida Grande"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;t remember who) and a guy that was older than us and served as some sort of role model normally - like a teacher, older relative, etc.  While we were looking at videos - I remember there being a Disney section with no Little Mermaid, and a Bette Midler special section with a boxed set of all her stuff, he got some gloves and had a gun in his pocket.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px typo3; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px typo3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When we were at the checkout, he took out the gloves, put them on the wrong hands and held the gun in his left hand (he was right handed) and pointed it at a guy in line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font: 13.0px Lucida Grande"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;s head.  But then another guy doing the same sort of thing  did the same and shot the guy.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px typo3; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px typo3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Well all ran outside the store and the guy that actually did the shooting ran to a bag on the ground in the parking lot, with another guy lying in the lot, and put on a wig and the two men pretended that they were sun bathing in the parking lot, but they were dressed like women.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px typo3; min-height: 18.0px"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 13.0px typo3"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The police came and ignored them... it seems the plan was that both men would do the same thing but they didn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font: 13.0px Lucida Grande"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;t know who had the actual live round in their gun or something.  Then my dream transitioned into another one somehow....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-4347912675018173177?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/4347912675018173177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=4347912675018173177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4347912675018173177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4347912675018173177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/11/one-with-video-store-murder.html' title='The One with the Video Store Shooting'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-8267854422470723810</id><published>2009-11-26T09:44:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-13T08:29:46.922-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recorded'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>"What Did I Dress For Halloween"</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;Somehow this dream had a title:  “What Did I Dress For Halloween”.  I’m not sure how that happened, but I knew it when I woke up.  This dream was a bit different because although I didn’t open my eyes, I’m pretty sure it happened in the middle of the night instead of the morning close to waking.  I went to sleep very early last night, so I guess that it happened around midnight or so.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;At the beginning of the dream, there were two boats - canoe-ish boats that are pushed along by oars (not rowing), not unlike the water taxis in Venice although not as nice.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;A fight of sorts was imminent, so we had to descend (with the boats) underwater to a two-room shack.  On my side of the fight was Mohinder (or someone that looked like him) from the TV show Heroes, an older man and perhaps two other people.  There was a young boy, perhaps 6 or 7 years old but I’m still unclear which side he was on.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;While underwater, we could either hold our breath indefinitely, or we could breathe underwater.  I’m not sure which.  I don’t remember feeling the sensation of breathing during the dream, nor the sensation of holding my breath.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;On the other side of the fight was at least one old American Indian man.  I believe there was a young boy on his side, too, but I can’t remember if there were two boys or not.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;We sent Mohinder down in a boat on his own as bait to distract the other side while we set the shack up as a base or sanctuary.  I remember there being a light in the boat with him, glowing green I believe, and knowing that it was a sacrificial move.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;The young boy drowned somehow, and the old man from the other side someone got into the first room of our shack.  I fought with him by forcefully slapping his forehead with both of my hands, each time causing his head to crack open (like the movie Kung Fu Hustle when the old woman breaks the top off the funeral bell).  Each time it cracked, pumpkin seeds came out of his head, kind of oozing out of the crack.  I don't recall him really doing anything to fight back physically.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;When his head was cracked about halfway, he said that he wanted to stop but I told him that it was too late, because he was already dead.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;At that point, it became apparent that for some reason, when people were dying they were hanging around.  I wasn’t sure if it was because we were underwater, because it was dark (it was nighttime) or for some other reason.  But I knew that it wasn’t permanent - if something changed, they would “move on”.  I speculated in my head that perhaps once they were exposed to sunlight they would die for real.  Mohinder died and moved on because he was going to die anyway and it was his time.  &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light; min-height: 17.0px"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 14.0px Skia Light"&gt;Toward the end of the dream I realized that other famous people had spent time in that underwater shack.  I “saw” a poster of faces but I don’t think it was a real poster - I just visualized it.  It was of famous people that either had disappeared or died or were hounded by paparazzi.  I remember Princess Diana and I think it included Amelia Earhart.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-8267854422470723810?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/8267854422470723810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=8267854422470723810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8267854422470723810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8267854422470723810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-did-i-dress-for-halloween.html' title='&quot;What Did I Dress For Halloween&quot;'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-4847315996210354027</id><published>2009-10-01T22:00:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T22:01:28.500-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Award Party</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;I had a dream that I was going to a party with Julie P.  It started out as being a regular party, but it turned out to be an awards party and I was due to get an award for being a director of photography on a film.  I spent the vast majority of the dream going through all my pants and shirts, trying to figure out what to wear.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a woman trying to help me - like I was shopping for clothes in a store but I was trying on all my clothes.  I ended up getting mad at her and I think I was mean to her, and then a guy got mad at me for getting mad at the woman and he was threatening to kick my ass or something. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up changing my mind and asked the woman for help, but she wanted me to try on dresses.  She wanted me to wear two - one for "before the Emperor" and one for "after the Emperor" - like before and after I won the award.  I didn't want to wear dresses, so she mentioned something about leather, and I remembered my leather pants.  I think I was going to wear those after I won, and before I was going to wear black pants and a red shirt with a black sweater over the shirt.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up sweaty and feeling anxious. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-4847315996210354027?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/4847315996210354027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=4847315996210354027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4847315996210354027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4847315996210354027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/10/one-with-award-party.html' title='The One with the Award Party'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-1674599458493285170</id><published>2009-08-03T21:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T10:02:45.827-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bathroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><title type='text'>The One with the Underwear Show</title><content type='html'>A guy I work with (who shall remain nameless) was sitting on a toilet (going, uh, number two).  I was in the bathroom also, which seemed to be in a private residence.  He calmed watched and commented as I tried on different pairs of underwear, apparently preparing for some kind of outing.  I was even taking them off and putting on new ones right in front of him - something I would not be inclined to do during waking hours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-1674599458493285170?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/1674599458493285170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=1674599458493285170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1674599458493285170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1674599458493285170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/08/one-with-underwear-show.html' title='The One with the Underwear Show'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-8935191074971365990</id><published>2009-07-17T06:48:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:47:59.556-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><title type='text'>The One with the Big Mob Shooting</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;I first remember being in a building in the center of the Westfield State College campus with Angelo - perhaps in the dining commons.  Angelo worked at the college or was going to school there now and we were talking about it.  He was saying that the campus was so big that he didn't know where anything was.  I was saying that no, the campus is very small.  He mentioned the student center (I think he had yet to see it) and I responded, "It's right there!  I can see it from here!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to take him and some other student (I didn't recognize him) around, and said that it would be nice to see Stanley Park.  Even though Angelo said he had been there before, we decided to head in that direction anyway.  I think at one point we were in a car, but at another point the three of us were flying above Western avenue.  There were a bunch of cops in the street like there would be for a big event, but then we noticed there were a whole bunch of guys dressed like old-style mobsters with small machine guns in the street, just kind of in a neat line going down the length of the street. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other student and I were wondering what they were doing and were concerned, but Angelo was acting like a kid, making gestures and kind of yelling at the mobsters like it was all a game or a joke.  We were flying down the length of the street for a bit when I heard something like, "Ok guys get ready."  I yelled, "Let's get the hell out of here!" and somehow directed Angelo down a side street.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="font-family:Helvetica, Arial, sans;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "&gt;We started flying down the side street and kind of crashing into branches and stuff and ended up having to run.  I remember pushing off tree branches with my legs to fly faster.  At one point, I heard someone yelling, "OK, pull the rope!! Pull the rope!!"  Although we couldn't see or hear directly, we knew that they had starting shooting and something else was going on, too.  I never actually saw anyone in the dream get shot, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up going into a big house (like a three family house) where two Asian boys lived (Tony and Jaycen?) and told them something was going on and we all ran up to the attic to hide.  Someone from our group said to be quiet, but it seemed like the shooters were coming into houses, like they were just trying to kill everyone.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I think I woke up briefly and my heart was pounding.  I fell back to sleep and all of a sudden the shooting was over but I was in the same dream, but someone I was now disguised as a small black cat.  I remember running around the town trying to figure out a place go to.  I ended up in some small apartment at the top floor of another multiple family house, turning on the TV briefly, but then leaving again for some reason.  I remember seeing car lights (at this point it was dark) and crouching down and seeing cars drive by but then when I looked closer, they were like mechanically driven with statues in the car, almost so it would seem like the town was still populated.  Some of the "people" in the cars, buses and such looked like the guys from the Blue Man Group. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A bunch of young people walked buy, and one girl made those kissing sounds when she saw me because she wanted to pet me.  When she approached, I just ran away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now at this point in the dream, I started to find out more about what happened.  I remember being in a hotel-like building and hearing the "Pull the rope!" line again.  It seems l thought it was going to be like Ghost Ship and people would be somehow cut in half by the rope, but instead the rope was catching people in multiple, big nets.  I don't know what was going to happen to the people in the nets.  But they were shooting, too, and some people were trying to stop the nets.  At one point, my friend Lissa ran by pulling a rope, and she was being heroic trying to save people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-8935191074971365990?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/8935191074971365990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=8935191074971365990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8935191074971365990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8935191074971365990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/07/one-with-big-mob-shooting.html' title='The One with the Big Mob Shooting'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3684836183198383801</id><published>2009-03-28T08:41:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:32:19.227-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natural disaster'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><title type='text'>The One When Lighting Struck Thrice</title><content type='html'>I was in a classroom, sitting in maybe the second row in the middle of the room.  The teacher (although in the dream I though of him as a professor, so it must've been college) was in the front of the room teaching, like normal.  Justin came in and was either going to be a guest teacher/speaker, replace the existing teacher or join the teacher on a permanent basis - I'm not sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The outer wall of the classroom had large windows, and some of them opened like doors.  Justin went outside with the professor while the rest of us watched from inside the classroom.  They were going to do some sort of demonstration.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sky had dark clouds and Justin ended up getting struck by lightning - but it wasn't like a bolt came down and hit him, it was more like a cloud of electricity came down, surrounded him and shocked him for a few seconds and then dispersed.  He remained standing at that point but became understandably nervous about staying outdoors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The professor then got shocked in a similar manner while he was continuing to set up the demonstration.  Justin became increasingly agitated and for good reason because he got hit a second time.  I remember bolts of lightning kind of hovering around the clouds, pointing at the two of them, almost like they were being targeted.  At this point in the dream, both Justin and the professor were lying on the ground unconscious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The entire class was frozen and one other person and I were like "Call 911!!"  So the other guy called while I ran into the hallway.  I remember thinking of the stats that X percentage of people freeze in emergencies, Y% panic and scream and like 10% can actually function.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the hallway (a college/school hallway), there was what looked like a medical triage unit set up in a large stairwell landing.  I remember seeing a very large defibrillator unit.  Lynn was the head nurse.  I yelled for her to come into the classroom, but she shook her head like she was too busy with other things.  I yelled that two people had just gotten hit by lightning, so she followed me into the classroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point, I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3684836183198383801?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3684836183198383801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3684836183198383801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3684836183198383801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3684836183198383801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/03/one-when-lighting-struck-thrice.html' title='The One When Lighting Struck Thrice'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-1777982599771576688</id><published>2009-02-22T09:32:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T09:37:43.716-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='demons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One With Everything But the Kitchen Sink</title><content type='html'>I had a dream with lots of stuff combined... work, school, magic, video games, monsters....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was not feeling well - I think I had a cold but felt woozy like I might have had a fever or something.  But I was taking a test that my boss at work had given out.  I remember it having quadratic equations or something and depending on whether or not someone was male or female, they used a different equation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My boss was giving me tips on how to do the test, but at some point I lost the test and was looking all over for it.  I had notebooks filled with other stuff but the test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point I went to the back of the room to look for it, but I picked up an opened package of artificial sweetener off a girl's desk, got it on her jacket or something and cleaned off her desk.  She had applied for a job somewhere else so when my boss asked her why she was late, she said she was in HR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point I went on to this raised platform to look for the test and a monster came out onto the platform and I had to fight it.  I did the thing where I put my fists together in front of me and that gave me some sort of power and I beat it even though I wasn’t feeling well.  Once I beat it, there were all these little pills around that were like in video games after you beat something - you get stuff to increase your health and magic points back up.  So, ate those.  I don't recall feeling less "sick."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked through my notebook again looking for the test but didn’t find it, but apparently I was looking to buy speakers because I had different models cut out of magazines or something and pasted in some of the pages with notes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-1777982599771576688?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/1777982599771576688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=1777982599771576688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1777982599771576688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1777982599771576688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2009/02/one-with-everything-but-kitchen-sink.html' title='The One With Everything But the Kitchen Sink'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-7796071985323821585</id><published>2008-12-16T19:56:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T20:00:47.433-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One With the Top 10 List</title><content type='html'>I was helping a friend rewrite his top ten list of things to do - like in life.  His version wasn’t neat and had some Spanish items that were not spelled correctly.  I can’t really remember who the person was - just that he was hispanic and didn’t know Spanish.  My friend Kyle was in the room listening and Jose walked through briefly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Items I remember:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-  Collect 10 items of myself (like when famous people have merchandise)  But he had already done that&lt;br /&gt;-  Sleep with the CBS soap opera stars on CBS soap operas (that’s how it was written)&lt;br /&gt;-  There was an item about ordering two beers in Spanish, but the words weren’t right and I’m not sure what the item itself was... maybe finally learn it correctly?  I remember the word “dois” was used and it meant “beer!”  Jose confirmed that the word that meant “Give me” was the actual word, but it was not “Da” or “Dame”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-7796071985323821585?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/7796071985323821585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=7796071985323821585' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7796071985323821585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7796071985323821585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/12/one-with-top-10-list.html' title='The One With the Top 10 List'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-5540953092115377951</id><published>2008-11-07T17:50:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:07:33.373-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One When Nick, Michelle and I Go For a Ride</title><content type='html'>I just had a dream that I was in the back seat of a car (SUV I think) with Michelle and Nick was in the front passenger seat in front of me.  Nick had just gotten back from Arizona where he spent Xmas and he brought me back two packages of Starbursts that were all strawberry flavored.  He was showing us pictures from his trip and a video that he took with 9mm film... It was fall there and the leaves were turning colors and he were wearing a jacket, which was weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The video went past these ruins really quickly - like a miniature stonehenge and he were more fascinated with turkeys and the leaves.  Then the car was somehow down there and we saw a bunch of bald eagles.  He said it was legal to shoot them down there as long as they were in flight.  He had also gotten a new job working on the "Rob Roy" project.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-5540953092115377951?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/5540953092115377951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=5540953092115377951' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5540953092115377951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5540953092115377951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-when-nick-michelle-and-i-go-for.html' title='The One When Nick, Michelle and I Go For a Ride'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-4964259927995665176</id><published>2008-11-07T17:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:23:19.832-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One When I Was Sarah Jessica Parker</title><content type='html'>I dreamed that I went to this gourmet grocery and got something to eat and a Chinese robe and then went to a hotel for some reason, although I did live in the area.  I think for a moment in the dream I was Sarah Jessica Parker and was complaining that people only liked me for my shoes but today people didn't like my shoes, so I took them off and hung them in the closet with this special hanger for very expensive shoes.  They were blue...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Then I was lying in the robe (I was myself again) and I couldn't remember paying for the food and robe, so I was trying to look up the number of the store in the phone book but it was FILLED with advertisements so it was impossible to find actual listings.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-4964259927995665176?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/4964259927995665176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=4964259927995665176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4964259927995665176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4964259927995665176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-when-i-was-sarah-jessica-parker.html' title='The One When I Was Sarah Jessica Parker'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-7558639778221573229</id><published>2008-11-07T17:35:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T17:41:01.288-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>The One With the McDonald's Fiasco</title><content type='html'>I was on some sort of road trip with the parents, I think Dawn was there and the little girl who lives next to my parents was with us as well.  We stopped at a rest stop that I had a really huge McDonald’s to get breakfast and it was like a really big buffet.  You served yourself, but it wasn’t all-you-can-eat – you still paid for what you chose.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember picking some fruit, Panetone soaked in something, hash browns and I think an Egg McMuffin.  Jim was there near the Panetone because he tried something near it (I think the bread pudding?) and said it tasted like it was soaked in alcohol, like rum or something.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was getting something, a woman next to me in the line at the buffet thing like backed into me.  She was wearing this light blue knit sweater and was kind of fat – she had like rolls of fat that like went into my plate and like picked up some of my food.  So I kind of yelled at her but got out of the way.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went around the rest of the buffet and then went to get in line to pay.  Then the same woman cuts in front of me and backs into me again, this time getting pretty much everything off my plate.  I totally went off on her and was yelling at her (can’t remember what I said) but I was SO mad.  I threw away what little was left on my plate and didn’t go back to get more and just stormed back to the others.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents and sister had turned into my neighbors, I think, because I remember talking with one of them about it as we walked back to the car.  The woman passed me on the way and I think she was going to apologize but I told her, “I WARNED you to stay away from me!!”.  I was close to just smashing her in the face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-7558639778221573229?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/7558639778221573229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=7558639778221573229' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7558639778221573229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7558639778221573229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-with-mcdonalds-fiasco.html' title='The One With the McDonald&apos;s Fiasco'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-8274609316621890365</id><published>2008-11-04T20:09:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:48:33.450-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kidnapping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>The One with the Hostage Situation(s)</title><content type='html'>The first part of the dream that I remember was that I was having dinner with some people, or at least we were in a place where people were having dinner.  A group of hit-men came and threw these long grenade-type missiles at a table that blew up.  I remember them being white and spinning around in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These men were either assassins or mobsters that did jobs, and it seemed that I was often in the general area...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was running away from the scene, it became clear that somehow, unwittingly, I knew at least one of the hit-men.  Someone was either asking me how I knew him or commented on how I got mixed up with the wrong crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I remember being in a bookstore, near the entrance, perhaps in a mall.  It was like Borders or Barnes and Noble.  The hit-men had followed me or something, but they weren’t chasing me specifically.  At this point they all had guns and we all were lying on the floor.  I think they were dressed in all black like SWAT guys or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A man near me was gathering little pieces of paper and was going to write something on it (on my dictation machine I used to record some dreams I said it said, “I can see it, can you?”) and he was going to try to do something to stop them.  Like maybe a gun was going to fall and he was going to grab it.  The guy needed a pen, and was going to actually try to get one from one of the gunmen, but I ended up giving him the pen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then this younger woman was trying to get money out of the ATM.  I think she was one of the assassins’ targets.  They knew that she was going to try the ATM, the card wouldn’t work and that’s how they were going to find her and confirm she was the one.  She also needed a pen to sign a check that I think she was going to deposit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this time, we’re lying on the floor and the other guy with the paper and I were between two tables that books were on, or between two bookshelves, because it felt like a small place but relatively safe.  They told her to come with them because her ATM wasn’t working, and I said, “You know, they’re going to shoot that poor woman, but don’t worry about it because we’re going to get through it.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They started loading us onto the bus/train and I said, “Don’t look, they’re going to do it.”  As we were driving away, they shot her by the ATM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The inside of the train/bus was kind of like school bus - with seats that sat two, maybe three adults, and there was a longer, bench-type seat in the back that went all the way across the width.  The train/bus changed shape a couple of times in the dream, however.  It went from the bus configuration to more of a freight train car with a big ramp later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While it was the bus, I was sitting with an older woman as we were hostages, and I told her to move toward the front, because I had a bad feeling about our situation.  It felt like I had the dream before, so I knew a little bit about what was going to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy got onto the bus with a dog that was handicapped - it looked like it was missing a foot and was in general bad shape, and the guy looked like he might be homeless or something.  But I knew in the dream that they were both faking it (including the dog who was trained to feign injuries) - they just wanted to get on the bus.  I think the man was secretly a policeman or SWAT person or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the guy moved to the back (at this point it transitioned to more of a freight train car type of deal with the big ramp... going up to a second level for storage or something), I followed them to the back and got like a greek salad.  The salad dressing was like urine mixed with something.  One of the hostage takers was like, “What is that?”  I replied that it was some sort of ethnic food.  But it turned out to just be Greek salad and I offered to give it to him, and he took it and put the dressing on the salad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then all of a sudden the train had stopped suddenly because we hit something and I was running forward toward the open front of the train car (the whole front was open).  I would have been sliding or flying forward because of the sudden stop, but I was definitely running.  I went flying out the front of the car onto the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something then slammed into the back of the train and the whole thing caught on fire.  People started running out, including the hostage-takers.  I ran in to try to save some people that were still in there - the old woman from before and another older black woman that reminded me of the older black woman in Speed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the old woman that I was talking to before decided to stay in there with her little dog - a little white dog - I think it was a poodle.   I think she said something like she had lived long enough. I think the other woman was going to stay with her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the dream, I knew ahead of time that the train was going to get hit from behind but that I was going to be ejected just before that happened and that I wasn’t going to be injured.  I also knew ahead of time that the woman was going to want to stay in the train.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-8274609316621890365?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/8274609316621890365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=8274609316621890365' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8274609316621890365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8274609316621890365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/11/one-with-hostage-situations.html' title='The One with the Hostage Situation(s)'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-2253407021549812208</id><published>2008-10-25T11:44:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T20:59:33.920-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Football and Cigarette</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that Marc, Ellen, Jeff, Mike and I were outside, at night, in a tennis court at a school.  We were having some sort of party, I think, but Marc was like our sports coach.  We were taking turns doing something with balls --- like we were taking turns at bat but we weren't playing baseball.  I think we were using tennis balls and definitely a football.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So at one point I volunteered to throw the football for people because I didn't really like 'playing' - it was like I was doing the pitching for batting practice and not taking a turn at bat.  Ellen was smoking and when I decided to that, I took over from her and took the rest of her cigarette.  So I was throwing a football at the rest of you, who were drinking beers and stuff, with the cigarette hanging out of my mouth.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-2253407021549812208?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/2253407021549812208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=2253407021549812208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2253407021549812208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2253407021549812208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/10/one-with-football-and-cigarette.html' title='The One with the Football and Cigarette'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-5625229921870890855</id><published>2008-10-20T18:47:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T20:59:39.254-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One Where Indiana Jones is My Dad</title><content type='html'>My family (Mom, Dad, my sister and I) went to Fiji on some Indiana Jones-type of adventure, but my dad was the Indiana Jones guy.  All I remember was our second trip - like we had to go back for something.  In Fiji there was a big amusement park like Six Flags and we had to go through it to get to where the archaeological treasure was.  I wanted to see more of Fiji and we were planning on going the same route to the treasure, and I wanted to go a different way to see if we could still get to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember there being a big tube type of ride - like a tube water slide but without water - on the left and we had to go up this stairwell thing that looked like a really big version of the wooden playground sets.  Once we got up there, we walked across a big covered bridge type of thing and I was asking mom how long we were going to stay this time.  She kept saying "3 months" but I knew that wasn't right, so I kept asking and she eventually said just two days and two nights... I thought that was a rediculous amount of time to come all the way to Fiji for!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got to this big underground cavern where a sarcophagus / idol was.  Dad had to cut his hand and get blood on it to wake it up.  When he did, a big thundering voice said, "Who disturbs my rest?"  as the sarcophagus opened.  I think Dad needed to ask him something... like we had already gotten the treasure but needed to know something else.  That's when my alarm went off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-5625229921870890855?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/5625229921870890855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=5625229921870890855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5625229921870890855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5625229921870890855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/10/one-where-indiana-jones-is-my-dad.html' title='The One Where Indiana Jones is My Dad'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-7224112213052159671</id><published>2008-10-12T16:49:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T13:11:19.495-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commentary'/><title type='text'>Dream Books</title><content type='html'>Following is a listing of the dream books I own... some I bought for myself, others were given as gifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=as1&amp;amp;asins=0517224658&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dream Dictionary: &amp;nbsp;An A to Z Guide to Understanding Your Unconscious Mind&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Tony Crisp,&amp;nbsp;Wings Books&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- This is probably my favorite of the bunch... it has more variety of entries, has examples, and is slightly more academic feeling. &amp;nbsp;Some entries are extensive, with the "Archetypes" entry 15 pages long. &amp;nbsp;There's not much other than dream dictionary entries, but it's the first book I turn to for symbol explanation suggestions.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=as1&amp;amp;asins=1402742096&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Illustrated Dream Dictionary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Russell Grant, Sterling Publishing Company, Inc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- &amp;nbsp;Much less verbose than Tony Crisp's book, although some entries have many sub-topics. &amp;nbsp;This book seems to focus on the possibly predictive nature of dreams (i.e. dream of &lt;i&gt;this&lt;/i&gt; and &lt;i&gt;that&lt;/i&gt; will happen).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;iframe frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=httpwwwdanlor-20&amp;amp;o=1&amp;amp;p=8&amp;amp;l=as1&amp;amp;asins=0806943432&amp;amp;fc1=000000&amp;amp;IS2=1&amp;amp;lt1=_blank&amp;amp;m=amazon&amp;amp;lc1=0000FF&amp;amp;bc1=000000&amp;amp;bg1=FFFFFF&amp;amp;f=ifr" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="vertical-align: top;"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Remembering &amp;amp; Understanding Your Dreams&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Craig Hamilton-Parker, Sterling Publishing Company, Inc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;- Pretty interesting, has illustrations by Steinar Lund and Lynne Milton. &amp;nbsp;It's much more than a simple dream dictionary, but the dictionary itself is not nearly as extensive as others. &amp;nbsp;Interesting topics like lucid dreaming, common dreams and famous dreamers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-7224112213052159671?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/7224112213052159671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=7224112213052159671' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7224112213052159671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7224112213052159671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/10/dream-books.html' title='Dream Books'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-1186883975615591011</id><published>2008-10-12T16:24:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T08:37:15.813-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peeing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bathroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='themes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commentary'/><title type='text'>Dream Themes:  Peeing</title><content type='html'>&lt;img align="left" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/lzd924/SPJdndY1k-I/AAAAAAAABmk/LWCeO7j0pi0/s144/145px-Male_symbol_on_public_restroom.jpg" style="margin-right: 10px;" /&gt; The dreams you're most likely to remember are ones where you wake up in the middle... you just don't have time to forget about it while you continue your rest.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Often, people remember the last dream they had just before waking up for good in the morning... and one thing that comes along with waking up is your morning pee.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I find that I incorporate real-life sounds, feelings, etc. in my dreams.  I recall having a dream where I was outside, and in real life, my mother opened my bedroom door to wake me up.  In my dream, a door appeared out of thin air and opened just before I woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have seemingly countless dreams where I have to pee... sometimes I actually get to pee (and, contrary to popular belief I do NOT actually pee the bed), but most of the time I'm stuck endlessly getting interrupted.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sometimes I walk into a bathroom and all the toilets and urinals are so disgustingly filthy I can't bring myself to use them.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Other times, I'll be in a bathroom with dozens of urinals or toilets, I get ready to go, and someone will come in and - with all the free spaces - will come and stand right next to me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've had dreams of peeing into the strangest locations - once a beautiful gold or bronze bejeweled bowl, I remember.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just looked up "urine/urinate" in one of my &lt;a href="http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/10/dream-books.html"&gt;dream books&lt;/a&gt;, "Dream Dictionary:  An A to Z Guide to Understanding Your Unconscious Mind" and it says, "Dreams in which we try to go to the toilet but it is mysteriously locked or closed, may be due to the need to pee during the night."  (p. 394)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It was interesting that two of my other dream books didn't even go near the subject.  Perhaps it's too "dirty"????  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I know whenever I have the dream I wake up and always have to go...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/search/label/peeing"&gt;See dreams in the blog that have to do with peeing&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-1186883975615591011?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/1186883975615591011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=1186883975615591011' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1186883975615591011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1186883975615591011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/10/dream-themes-peeing.html' title='Dream Themes:  Peeing'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/lzd924/SPJdndY1k-I/AAAAAAAABmk/LWCeO7j0pi0/s72-c/145px-Male_symbol_on_public_restroom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-4434056143728960522</id><published>2008-03-08T10:26:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:47:29.266-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Mugging and the Dead Vice Principal</title><content type='html'>In this dream, I was someone else... like I was watching it in the first person.  I was at the mall in my father's car.  I was in college student and I was waiting to pick up my father who was at the mall doing something.  Some kid either opened my door or came to my window and robbed me.  He held a knife to my throat and wanted to take all of my money.  I gave it to him (which wasn't a lot) and my father came and ended up giving him all of his money as well and the kid left.  A guy from work was in the dream at some point; I think he was a police officer.  I think we filed a report with him, or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up finding out who the kid was that robbed me somehow.  I had to go around a neighborhood trying to find where his house was.  Once I found him, I ended up being nice to him and we ended up being friends.  We had a class together in school.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The classes took place in classrooms that were in storefronts in the mall, kind of interspersed among the other, regular stores in the mall.  So this kid, I can't remember his name exactly but I thought it was three letters but I want to say it was Alex, became kind of someone I was trying to take under my wing and turn him around.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point we were in a hallway (at this point it seemed like a regular high school and not a mall) and there were a bunch of people outside gathering around an event that was happening.  It turns out Alex had strangled one of the vice principals of the school (Mr. XXXXXX, it seems, from my high school in real life).  We looked outside and we saw the VP lying in the road covered in a blanket or tarp.  There was a girl near us - I think she was taking nursing or something - saying she tried to help him in his last moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all went back to class, including Alex, and were sitting in a classroom, but on the floor on the perimeter of the room (this is how we always sat, it seems).  Alex came in last.  He sat in the middle of the classroom because he knew no one would want to sit next to him, but then he asked if he could next to me and I said he could.  Everyone was staring at him.  There was one guy that was getting all up in arms against him and I stood up to defend him.  I was going to tell the story about how he robbed me and how he had made so much progress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a girl named Temika in the classroom that we knew and her sister opened the door to the class and pointed a gun at me and fired.  But Temika had put a blank in the gun, almost knowing that she was going to do that.  I followed her out into the hallway and tackled or tripped her and ended up bashing her head into the wall until she was unconscious.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came back into the classroom and started telling people that Alex was one of the most misunderstood people I had ever met.  People thought he was stupid, and he's not.  People didn't know that he had a hard life.  Then I started telling the story about how we had met and how he had robbed me and that I had gotten to know him and we became friends even after that.  Temika was going to defend him too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a very long dream and there were a lot of other details I can't remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-4434056143728960522?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/4434056143728960522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=4434056143728960522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4434056143728960522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/4434056143728960522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/03/one-with-mugging-and-dead-vice.html' title='The One with the Mugging and the Dead Vice Principal'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3591871348728324162</id><published>2008-01-25T19:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T16:49:39.290-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='demons'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with Magic and Naked Demons</title><content type='html'>The first part of my dream was that I was on some sort of educational trip - either for school or training for work.  I remember being on a bus and taking notes and then getting off at a bus stop and having to walk home with my luggage.  I was dropped off and was walking toward my parents' house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then I was staying at someone else's house like I was visiting them on vacation or something.  I remember sitting in bed and there were sliding glass doors in the bedroom and I could see into the back yard of the house.  There were all these people (seemed to be young 20's) playing some sort of live role playing game.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, in the back yard there was a woman walking in the yard next to the house I was staying at and it looked like there was a bear in the back yard of the house I was staying at.  Then something vague happened and the woman got “hit” and I don't know if she fake-died or what, but something happened in the game.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then someone was talking to me about the game and asked me if I noticed that when I couldn't see the person in the backyard, they actually looked like a bear.  Apparently when the person was covered (they had like a blanket or cloak or something they pulled over their head and were in shadow) they could take the shape of something else - in this case, a bear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the other person was telling me this, I noticed that the bear person had a cold, so I concentrated really hard and held out my hand and this little bubble appeared by magic and floated over to the person.  The person who was explaining this stuff to me got kind of mad and said I shouldn't have done it or something but I said it was only a cough drop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was on a street and a guy from work appeared from a neighbor's house and he was running around naked and his body was all one color - a weird color like red or blue or something.  I ran toward him with my hands out and my power at that point was to suppress his power until I grabbed him by the balls which made it so he couldn't do anything.  I had to even kind of dig my nails in.  It was kind of like I was playing the game City of Villains in real life or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was trying out some other powers - once again I thought I might have the power where I slapped my hands together I could make a sonic boom but that didn't really work out well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3591871348728324162?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3591871348728324162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3591871348728324162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3591871348728324162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3591871348728324162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/01/one-with-magic-and-naked-demons.html' title='The One with Magic and Naked Demons'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-2010569686809632705</id><published>2008-01-21T17:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T19:13:32.367-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One Where I Worked at Big Y</title><content type='html'>I had a dream I wanted to make more money to buy a harp, so I got a job at Big Y.  I was working at one location as a cashier, and I used a couple of different registers… one of them even had an old Apple computer attached to it – I can’t remember the reason why.  But then they had me go to a different location in Westfield.  I think it was 150 The street.  It was definitely The street though… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went looking for the store, but I had trouble finding it, so I called my mom.  I asked where The street was (pronouncing it like “thuh” as usual but it was actually pronounced “thee”).  She kind of explained where it was and I went looking for it.  I had been heading in the wrong direction to start and these two women that worked at a local hospital (I assume as much because they were wearing scrubs) told me it was the other way, up a bunch of steps.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went by a historic location called the "something" Gates… where "something" is the name of someone… I can’t remember the name, though.  Then I had to go through this arcade area – it was like a plaza but all the stores were arcades… kind of like at an amusement park or something because there were railings everywhere.  I kept jumping over the railings because they were in the way, and other people were too, but when they did, these girls that worked there would beat them up.  The girls tried to beat me up, too, but I hit one back and they thought I was cute so they didn’t bother me much – they just flirted.  I never did find the store… I found the street, but not the store.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-2010569686809632705?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/2010569686809632705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=2010569686809632705' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2010569686809632705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/2010569686809632705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/01/one-where-i-worked-at-big-y.html' title='The One Where I Worked at Big Y'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-7248303337097264458</id><published>2008-01-16T19:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T21:21:32.882-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Necklace and Stolen Cell Phones</title><content type='html'>I was over my uncle's, in a finished basement at something that resembled a sleepover.  Two guys (both from work) and I were in a bed trying to sleep, but it was obviously difficult to get comfortable with all of us in the same bed.  I took my pillow and a blanket and started to head upstairs to sleep somewhere else.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the stairs, on the vertical part of one of the steps, was some sort of stickers or something (maybe Christmas-related stuff?) on display for sale.  It was as if my aunt had a mini store going on in her home - like when people came to visit, she would try to sell them something.  At the top of the stairs, kind of like it was the topmost stair itself, was a cash register for handling such transactions.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cousin was in a room upstairs with her daughter and I remember thinking it was weird for her to be up so late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we were somewhere else, in a car, driving into a gas station type of business.  At this point I think I knew that my parents were divorced and my mom did not have custody of us (not sure if my dad did, either).  We were looking for my sister and she was with my aunt and uncle at this gas station.  There was a table outside in the parking lot with a bunch of cell phones and something else for sale.   It seems my aunt and uncle (and maybe my cousin, too) had stolen the phones and were selling them there at the station (because maybe they knew the owner?).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Near the gas station was a house that my mom used to live in.  It was boarded up and looked dangerous and it indeed was condemned.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom had a necklace that fell down the sink and she managed to get it out after some guy told her how to do that.  When she retrieved it, she had to do so from the faucet, not from the drain.  The necklace was damaged.  This part appeared to be some sort of flashback because at the end of the dream, there was some sort of revelation that my mom had always worn a necklace that was made from the remaining parts of the original necklace that had fallen into the sink.  I remember the new necklace had a clasp where one end is a closed circle and the other is like a post shaped like a bar that is inserted into the circle.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it seemed like we were trying to find the original necklace but we finally realized that is what happened to it... she had been wearing it all along and we had forgotten that was remade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-7248303337097264458?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/7248303337097264458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=7248303337097264458' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7248303337097264458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7248303337097264458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/01/one-with-necklace-and-stolen-cell.html' title='The One with the Necklace and Stolen Cell Phones'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3980854132131729628</id><published>2008-01-12T12:46:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:22:24.951-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peeing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='public speaking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with Ella, the Presentation and the Threat</title><content type='html'>I had to give a presentation at work and I was in a hallway that was like the hall around an arena where they serve food and stuff.  I went to the bathroom and was peeing and this guy I went to High School with, let's call him Rob, was all of sudden standing next to me.  He just kind of looked at me and this necklace I had around my neck (might have been just a silver chain) and then he went and stood next to another guy.  Then he started hitting that guy, and they were kind of slapping at each other.  The other guy washed his hands quickly and left.  I washed my hands and left shortly after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was back in the hall way and Rob came up next to me and seemed kind of angry.  He was telling me about this guy Jacob Brown or something like that and a story about him that I had to do with.  Then I looked at him and said, “That was a dream!”  It was a dream I had and posted it on my blog.  Then Rob said, “You put that up on YouTube?”  In my dream I said yes, but YouTube, Facebook and blog were like all the same thing.  Then he kind of halfway pulled a knife out of his shirt and I stepped back and was like, “Oh my god, someone help me!”  But no one working at the food places heard because I said it softly.  But then he didn't do anything anyway and went away.  I went on to my presentation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gina from work and I both had to give presentations and I think before all of the above happened, we were in a meeting trying to figure out a problem at work, but the time was getting close so we had to go get our notes.  I got mine and went to the auditorium where we were giving them.  I had to walk through another auditorium where two people were really annoying people coming in because they were repeatedly telling people to take their seats even though people where just coming in and whatever they were doing wasn't starting for a little bit.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to the auditorium where our thing was taking places - it was just for practice I think - and there were already a few people in there and one woman was practicing her speech.  I took my seat.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing I remember I was in someone's living room - I think in the dream it was in the house or apartment a woman that lived on the next street from my parents' house.  The rug was weird in that it was like a normal run but had long, 4 inch pieces that stood straight up like a really long shag carpet but the long pieces weren't as densely packed together.  But we were all watching Ella Fitzgerald sing.  In the dream I loved the way she spoke between pieces.  She seemed so nice and had this southern black accent that was just dripping with honey.  We made it through about 7 songs before I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3980854132131729628?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3980854132131729628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3980854132131729628' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3980854132131729628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3980854132131729628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2008/01/one-with-ella-presentation-and-threat.html' title='The One with Ella, the Presentation and the Threat'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-6916473003083540993</id><published>2007-12-29T11:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T19:15:54.315-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='commentary'/><title type='text'>Recurring Dreams</title><content type='html'>I was talking with a couple of guys at work about dreams and we got to talking about recurring dreams we had.  We found that we shared some school-related dreams.  Some I've had:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I can't remember the combination to my locker.  I'm usually in my high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I am so far along in the semester and figure out that I've had my schedule wrong and that I've missed just about every English class (for example) all along.  This one seems to be related to the fact that in high school, we had a rotating schedule that you had to keep track of.  In these dreams it seems to be both high school and college, or both rolled into one.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't seem to have (or at least remember) any recurring dreams that many people have:  falling, wanting to scream but nothing coming out...  My dreams seem to be more violent.  My inadequacy dreams seem to be me trying to hit someone or something but not being able to hit hard enough.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have adventurous dreams - trying to save the world, or a town, or friends, or myself... I used to have a recurring dream that was much like the movie The Goonies.  In a basement, friends and I would find a secret passage behind some boxes and follow it on a crazy Goonie adventure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-6916473003083540993?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/6916473003083540993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=6916473003083540993' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/6916473003083540993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/6916473003083540993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/12/recurring-dreams.html' title='Recurring Dreams'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-5994859279577564479</id><published>2007-12-27T21:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:12:41.662-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='peeing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='natural disaster'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Earthquake</title><content type='html'>I was living in either a condo or an apartment -- the inside looked like the one I used to live in, but the outside was different.  I got up to go to the bathroom and I heard a loud noise.  I thought it was my fish tank when the filter doesn't get enough water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shut off the Golden Girls which was playing the the living room.  I looked out the window and it looked like they were doing construction, like taking up the pavement in the parking lot or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;I looked a bit closer and it was obvious there was an earthquake and there was a big crack, a fissure, not too far away.  There was a bunch of damaged cars that looked like they got ran over by a huge monster truck or something, all the cars in a row.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;One guy came to get stuff out of his truck, but the guy that was working nearby told him to get back.  I asked them, “What's going on, was there an earthquake?”  And there was an aftershock as I was standing there.  He replied, “Yeah, if you're going to stay inside...”  And I said, “Should I?”  And he was like, “No, no, not really - go get your stuff.”  I went back inside and started getting dressed and went to go pee, then I started gathering stuff up to put into a suitcase to take out.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember being asleep in the dream, feeling something (the earthquake) and incorporating that into my dream (in my dream).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-5994859279577564479?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/5994859279577564479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=5994859279577564479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5994859279577564479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5994859279577564479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/12/one-with-earthquake.html' title='The One with the Earthquake'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-8592300254591269834</id><published>2007-12-27T20:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-25T19:13:48.411-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Football and the Cigarette</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that Marc, Ellen, Jeff, Mike and I were outside, at night, in a tennis court at a school.  We were having some sort of party, I think, but Marc was like our sports coach.  We were taking turns doing something with balls --- like we were taking turns at bat but we weren't playing baseball.  I think we were using tennis balls and definitely a football.  So at one point I volunteered to throw the football for people because I didn't really like "playing" - it was like I was doing the pitching for batting practice and not taking a turn at bat.  Ellen was smoking and when I decided to that, I took over from her and took the rest of her cigarette.  So I was throwing a football at the rest of you, who were drinking beers and stuff, with the cigarette hanging out of my mouth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-8592300254591269834?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/8592300254591269834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=8592300254591269834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8592300254591269834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8592300254591269834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/12/one-with-football-and-cigarette.html' title='The One with the Football and the Cigarette'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3940324000802247118</id><published>2007-09-13T17:57:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T13:46:59.889-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='harp'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Recital, College and the Secret Path</title><content type='html'>I had a harp recital that was supposed to be very informal but it ending up being in a huge auditorium that was filled with people.  Felice chose the pieces we played and she had me play a Joanne Newsom song I had heard in the dream like only once before, never seen the sheet music for, and never played.  She announced it and I said while sitting in the audience “you want me to sight read it?” and she and the audience said “yes!”  So I started playing and did very well improvising most of it and I added glisses at some good points.  It was a blues-y piece.  When I was done, people clapped a lot and some people were standing up. I was very happy with the performance and couldn’t stop smiling afterward.  After, I talked with Felice (actually I think we were sitting at a piano), then I left… &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next I was walking through a college; I think I was a senior and a girl that was walking near me was pissing me off because she was talking about how she never got sleep with her roommate in town but she wasn't…  She gave me a dirty look or something and I said something nasty to her (like calling her a bitch or something like that) but then she made a crack about me being a commuter and not knowing what it was really like to be a “real” student or something.   Then we got talking about being a commuter versus a resident and how I could leave and drive places.  It ended up being a civilized conversation.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next the dream segued into a different scene… a booby-trapped area.  A guy that was a friend of mine (kind of like my costar in this portion of the dream) and I were trying to dismantle the traps.  I know at one point I was doing side kicks to one wall to destroy one of them.  But then there was a guy standing on the roof of one of the buildings trying to shoot us, so we ran to another building that was kind of like a metal maintenance shed.  He could shoot into the shed and I was crouched in one part of the shed near the door that was sheltered from the bullets.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up escaping out a semi-hidden back door in the shed that the shooter apparently didn’t know about and ran down a street down to the beach were there was a special trail with false entrances and exits.  There were like little arrows created naturally by the sea grass or some plant that you kind of had to know how to interpret otherwise you’d keep ending up off the path.  I had been there before – it seems like I’ve had dreams about this path before.  There were different stages on the path, which was very long, kind of like the Appalachian trail where people make pilgrimage-like treks along the path.  The shooter was following us, and we first were in the sandy section of the path which had white sand that was very difficult to get through.  The trick was to take your time – slow and steady – because if you tried to go too hard, you’d end up getting exhausted.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next was the vertical, icy portion of the path.  It was almost like rock climbing but not so steep as to need special equipment.  On this portion, people would leave food like granola bars and Nutragrain bars among stumps and trees for people after then, although I don’t think there was any food at this time.  There were also icicles that said “suck here” on them like they were frozen food or nutritive water.  The shooter was getting closer, so we started throwing things at him to try to slow him down.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived at a flat part of the path, it seemed like it was on a plateau on a mountain or something, with a pool of water.  It was still cold with snow and ice still around it.  My friend was in the water and the bad guy arrived and asked me if I knew the difference between the two ways to use his weapon – he could use it as a blow torch or a flame thrower or something like that.  I told that I knew if he used it in one way, he could use it to boil the water in the pool of water.  He tried to do that to kill my friend, but it didn’t work (I knew it wouldn’t) and he ended up in the water somehow and coated with ice.  My friend and I were going to escape and the shooter seemed so surprised that we would leave him to die.  It was like he expected me to get in the water and get coated with ice, too.  Then my alarm went off and I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3940324000802247118?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3940324000802247118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3940324000802247118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3940324000802247118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3940324000802247118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-with-recital-college-and-secret.html' title='The One with the Recital, College and the Secret Path'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-9055761226993416368</id><published>2007-09-12T16:19:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T21:16:11.671-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One Where I Beat Up the Hiltons</title><content type='html'>I was living at my parents’ house, and our neighbor on the next street (Marlene) whose family we were close to was doing some work on their house.  So, my family (Mom, Dad, Dawn and me) went over and started taking stuff from their house… like shoveling those little rocks used instead of mulch or for driveways into a big wheelbarrow or container.  But we were also taking furniture and stuff from their attic.  I got the impression that we had taken it before, like maybe we took it, they took it back, and back again, or something like that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We apparently needed this stuff to make updates to our own house.  There were contractors or other workmen at Marlene’s house and they were coming and going, but kind of just ignored them and they mostly ignored us.  But when we were down filling up our container, we had to leave the attic (I think we had to go upstairs!) and we had to wait for a guy with a ladder to go up first.  He hesitated, as if to think about letting us go first, but another guy said that we were there all the time taking stuff and to just go ahead of us, like we could wait.  Marlene ended up catching us and getting mad, but I was getting mad too saying that I didn’t want to do this anymore.  My mom was just kind of explaining to Marlene that we needed to do work on our own house and we needed the stuff.  She was like, “Oh, we’re just going to redo our living room a little bit…”  But when Marlene saw the ton of stuff we had, she was like, “A little bit??”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was outside in Marlene’s driveway and the Hilton sisters were living next door.  They came over and were going to kick our asses for stealing stuff or something to that effect.  Nikki told me they were going to do a move on me where they both give me a headbutt to the chest (I guess like the world cup guy), and I said, “Go ahead, try it.”  So they went to try it, but I grabbed them each by the back of the neck and bashed their heads together.  Then I grabbed them both by the throat and lifted them off the ground and said, “Did you know I was a world champion martial artist?”  Nikki kind of rolled her eyes and said yes, so I threw them to the ground and proceeded to beat the living hell out of the two of them.  I remember thinking I could say that I bitch-slapped Paris Hilton so I proceeded to do that several times, just to make sure… back and forth – you know, regular slap, bitch slap, regular slap, bitch slap.  I did much more than slap, though, I was punching and elbowing… I slapped Paris a lot, but I think I beat up Nikki more… as if I liked her a lot less.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-9055761226993416368?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/9055761226993416368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=9055761226993416368' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/9055761226993416368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/9055761226993416368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-where-i-beat-up-hiltons.html' title='The One Where I Beat Up the Hiltons'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-6797466592277525810</id><published>2007-09-12T16:14:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:42:00.395-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='buffy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Evil Sara</title><content type='html'>I lived on a huge estate - with multiple buildings and gardens and squares everywhere.  I was chatting with some friends on IM but through chatting, somehow we were hanging out together in real life as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a bunch of us hanging out outside and this woman Sara that I used to see out clubbing was there and people were commenting that it's not going to be fun with her there.  I didn't think anything of it at first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then we were all sitting on the grass in little lawn chairs in a big circle, I think we were going to figure out what we were going to do when she started taking charge and dictating what everone was going to do.  They kept taking pictures of me and the girl sitting next to me - I think it was Katie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they had me open my mouth to show a piece of hard candy that I had in my mouth so they could take a picture.  So, I stuck out my tongue and showed it but they said they couldn't see it and wanted it back further in my mouth, but that obviously didn't make any sense.  It didn't make sense to me in the dream, either.  That's when I commented to Katie that this wasn't any fun - kind of like Monica on friends when she was forcing everyone to 'have fun' doing mad libs but making them put the pen caps on correctly and choosing words that only made sense.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point, I logged onto into another session on the computer, therefore removing myself from that situation and going somewhere else in real life - to a different part of the estate.  But I wasn't supposed to do that and Sara got mad.  I hid out for a little bit and took a golf club with me when I left one building, but she came up behind me and was yelling at me and hitting me in the back with what seemed to be a long piece of grass that was like a whip.  So I whacked her with the golf club a couple of times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she was with a kid who was kind of like the annointed one on Buffy, and the kid had a knife but didn't use it, he just carried it with him.  They were both chasing after me in a building with stone walls and floors, like a castle, but I jumped over this little channel of water but Sara couldn't cross it because she had her period - as the kid pointed out.  I went further down the hallway and it turned left up into stairs, but to the right (across from the stairs) there was an alcove with a statue or someone in it who was going to try to help protect me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then somehow I gave up on that process and I was back in the circle on the grass as if I never left.  This time I stayed and kind of just followed the group, almost zombie-like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a while, we all got up and she wanted to go somewhere, but I think some people thought we were breaking for lunch, or were just annoyed with her and the situation and went off in a different direction.  Some people were going to try to escape.  People were saying that she was a witch.  I didn't go, I just followed along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Sara saw some people were leaving, she screamed in this cosmic, banshee-like scream, 'AHHHHHH!  GET BACK HERE AND GO TO THE BLACK DIAMOND!!!!'  It was ear-piercing and I woke up with the sound still in my ears - it was like the scream Siren did in the X-Men movie.  She was talking about an outside garden square that was in the shape of an elongated diamond.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-6797466592277525810?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/6797466592277525810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=6797466592277525810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/6797466592277525810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/6797466592277525810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-with-evil-sara.html' title='The One with the Evil Sara'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-1821872354340097280</id><published>2007-09-12T15:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-01-20T13:49:00.860-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One Where I Die</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I died.  I was in an elevator with this guy I think I knew, his name was ‘Rom’.  I was teaching people to jump when you’re at the top of a building just as the elevator starts to go down and you kind of free-fall for a second.  Somehow we found out in advance that we knew we were going to die.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We tried to get off another floor but it opened onto the same floor anyway (the one that we were going to die on) like you couldn’t avoid it once you found out.  I think I knew that I was going to be killed by a helicopter, like we would walk out onto a roof and the helicopter would crash into us and I actually would end up getting cut in half by the blades.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I remember going back to kung fu and watching some of the kids do forms and the was one little girl that was talking through the form, she was like, ‘grab and step and shuffle and step and step.’  Then I remember seeing my dad and I was surprised that he could see me, but it was like I was getting a chance to say ‘goodbye’ to everybody and so I did that but then I went back home and it’s like I was like a ghost – like I wasn’t leaving anywhere.   And it was like they knew I was there, and they would even set a place setting for me at dinner and at one point I was like, ‘Can I have a blue soda?’ and they gave me a blue soda.  It was like I wasn’t really dead.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I remember in another part I was with friends and they didn’t know I was dead.  I was like, ‘well, Rom and I have to get going…’ and I looked at one friend and thought it was someone like Marty (or maybe it was Scott?) and I said ‘Oh, I’m probably never going to see you guys again blah blah blah.’  And I looked at Scott and said ‘Oh, I’ll try to visit, don’t be scared, OK?’  I left and I think Rom was going somewhere else.  I think we were going somewhere like purgatory, but I’m not sure.  And we got these like whistles I think someone was about to try one, but then I woke up.  I was thinking after I woke up maybe they called you to go wherever it is you were supposed to go.  I also remember looking at the back of the kung fu building and kind of realizing I’d be drawn back to that in another life.  Like, we always come back to the same places and hang out with the same people every time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-1821872354340097280?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/1821872354340097280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=1821872354340097280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1821872354340097280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1821872354340097280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-where-i-die.html' title='The One Where I Die'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-7829181102769420291</id><published>2007-09-12T15:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:45:05.607-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='celebrity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>The One with the Queen of England</title><content type='html'>Melany came over and we went to see someone she knew from work that had just moved into a new place.  On the way there I saw Kathy F. from college and she was mad that I hadn’t called or returned her calls.  I think I used to be her roommate.  We kind of just went by her and she was yelling that she had something in her purse and was yelling that she was going to dump it in the first stiff wind once she got to Arizona.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were going up the stairwell into a room that was empty and smelled of varnished new floors and there was a woman on the porch putting stuff around (moving in).  We got to the living room and Melany introduced herself to a guy – the guy she knew.  She introduced me and he asked me if I was up all night partying and I said ‘no’.  He said that everyone else was.  I asked why.  He said because of Linda.  I asked who Linda was.  Everyone seemed shocked that I didn’t know and said ‘The queen, silly.’  I asked if she was the queen of Canada, and someone scoffed and said they don’t give parties for the queen of Canada.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned and it was the Queen of England (Elizabeth, not ‘Linda’), on the couch, kind of lying on her side, resting.  Melany said ‘they got your monitor set up, huh?  It looks better (like it saved space).’  There was a cake pan near the monitor and apparently it didn’t work out well because it and a triangular shaped cake jutted too much into the room, not like the square monitor.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up talking about a legend or something that guy who did something in one era was also the same guy that did something in another era (by traveling in time?).  It was a big deal and when I woke up I felt like it was some kind of religious revelation but I can’t remember that part!!  It was almost like the same guy that killed Caesar (Brutus) was the same guy that killed Jesus (Judas).  They used lemon cake or something to do it.  We were talking about it and I think they said they had heard something like that and I said I thought they (meaning Christians) didn’t believe in past lives.  The queen said something that Ukrainians thought that the lemon cakes worked.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-7829181102769420291?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/7829181102769420291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=7829181102769420291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7829181102769420291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/7829181102769420291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-with-queen-of-england.html' title='The One with the Queen of England'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-648799214692913365</id><published>2007-09-12T15:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:47:59.557-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One When Charissa Tried to Kill Me</title><content type='html'>I had a dream during a nap that this woman (she looked like Charissa from work) was trying to kill me – shoot me with a gun.  I ended up killing her after she got the police (who had come to arrest her) to put the right handcuffs on her that allowed her to shoot me.  The cuffs had the right letter or writing or something on them that matched up with either my middle name or my middle initial.  They had to match before she could shoot me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I managed to hide and miss getting shot and somehow got the gun and shot her.  I shot at her once, I think it either hit her in the head or missed her or hit her in the head AND didn’t really hit her, and then I got her once in the face hear her nose and a policewoman was like ‘oh [ew] look at the hole.’  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran upstairs to where my mom was (somehow I get the impression that she was sick and had to stay in bed but don’t remember anything specific about it).  I looked over the balcony (I think we were in a hotel with this weird play-type of equipment and I recall seeing photos of her and a friend playing on this water equipment – it was like air filled plastic balloon like play set type of things similar to McDonald’s equipment) and saw them putting her in a body bag.  I was so unsure if she was really dead.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I had to get ready to go to some function – Veronica’s baby shower I think.  I was going to call Jeff to see what he got her because I didn’t have time to shop for a present like I was planning on.  (Lisa’s baby shower is coming up in real life).  I woke up discombobulated - it was a really long nap – I went to take a 20-minute nap at like 5:30 when I got home and woke up at 8:08 (my alarm said 8:15).  I thought it was the morning but was confused because it was dark out so I thought it was just before my alarm usually goes off.  Since I thought I was late, I was going to call in sick to work, but then realized it was night and still Thursday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-648799214692913365?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/648799214692913365/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=648799214692913365' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/648799214692913365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/648799214692913365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-when-charissa-tried-to-kill-me.html' title='The One When Charissa Tried to Kill Me'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-1802553656992994703</id><published>2007-09-12T15:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:43:51.947-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drugs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One With the Lab and the OB/GYN</title><content type='html'>Took elevator to the 13th floor but there were only like 10 buttons.  I figured out how to get to secret levels. At one point near the end of the ride, the elevator went sideways - but rotated on its side and was still going up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to medical lab where Roger from work was trying to do something – he was like professor X.  I knew that in order for it to work they had to be on the same frequency.  There were two psychic things that needed to communicate or something.  Roger was one.  The lab was working on some drugs to enhance psychic powers.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I and Tom Sizemore - who was up there two and like my partner, started looking around.  The door opened and I said 'hide!'  and we dove down and hid behind one of the beds - like hospital beds but futuristic.  A huge tall guy and another guy (I think he was a childlike old guy kind of like in Akira) came in.  I thought they were bad guys but I'm not sure.  We got up and kept looking.  Apparently time starting running out and they started moving faster.  I was going around opening drawers and stuff trying to find a liquid that was the proper color to inject into him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was near the door something happened and someone dropped a whole bunch of these little things that were like the tips of needles, but they were small, like diabetic prick needles.  It was like a tall filing cabinet tipped and knocked into someone, like someone was doing something on the other side of the cabinet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to help them pick them up.  I knew someone was there who was causing more harm than good and they wanted them to leave.  I said that I would leave if they want, but this woman said, 'Dan, I'm an OB/GYN and I'd like you to stay and help if you could.'  I agreed and she asked me to paper the beds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found a big roll of paper like for the hospital beds, but not attached to one of them, and pulled out a big sheet and wrapped it around a pillow.  I said I thought it looked like carbon paper and the OB/GYN said it was carbon paper.  I noticed there were rolls at the foot of the beds for papering them.  I laughed and said, well we'll get imprints of this person's head at least.  I used the regular paper to paper the bed (the pillow still had the carbon paper).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all I remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-1802553656992994703?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/1802553656992994703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=1802553656992994703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1802553656992994703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1802553656992994703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-with-lab-and-obgyn.html' title='The One With the Lab and the OB/GYN'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-1041270661421428549</id><published>2007-09-12T15:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:10:49.660-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='escape'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='animals'/><title type='text'>The One with the Gorilla</title><content type='html'>Apparently I was staying at the school for a Martial Arts tournament because I had some bags that indicated that I was staying over for about a weekend and I had my weapons with me.  I had a roommate - some guy that I did not recognize in the dream.  Heather, Aimee and Mia were like one person that morphed into each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Gorilla would lock the bathrooms at night and slept in the hallway near my room.  If I had to go to the bathroom, I had to use the bathroom down the hallway, escorted by Heather.  You didn't HAVE to have the escort, but it was safer that way.  My roommate and I were waiting for Tina to come in and sneak us out - to escape.  She was helping people escape, but could only take a couple of people at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the bathroom with Heather, using the girl's bathroom at first.  I thought it was the only one.  Then I had to use the bathroom again (I think I went back to my room first for a bit) and went to the boy's bathroom.  I went for a very long time and then once I was done I had to go again.  I had to go into this big sink that reminded me of a sink that would be in an art class for some reason.  Heather was standing really close to me and she switched to Mia.  I yelled at her for standing so close while I was going and she kept trying to look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started walking back to the room and I saw Tina and my roommate and maybe one or two other people with backpacks on like there were going to leave without me.  My heart started pounding because I was scared I wouldn't escape, but they said they wouldn't leave without me.  I asked if I should go back and get my bags, and Tina said maybe I should so I would have a weapon.  She was carrying something like a tire iron.  I thought about my stuff and said 'f that' I could get new stuff.  If I got caught the gorilla would kill me/us.  But all of a sudden I had my steel fan, which I was showing to Aimee for a minute while we were waiting for Tina for some reason.  I was showing her how it could be used as a weapon.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We started to leave and I asked where the Gorilla was and Heather said 'In the cell checking the bathroom.'  I wasn't worried that the Gorilla would notice we weren't in the room, but if it caught us outside the room, it would kill us.  We got near the bathrooms and I saw the shadow of the Gorilla behind a door (had like frosted glass) and knew it was coming out so I ran toward the bathroom but didn't hide there because I knew it would check the bathroom.  I whispered to a kid 'hide!' and went into another room - kind of a big empty room with some tables against the wall - kind of like a band room with no stuff, or a banquet hall room. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-1041270661421428549?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/1041270661421428549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=1041270661421428549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1041270661421428549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1041270661421428549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-with-gorilla.html' title='The One with the Gorilla'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-5185309539258917801</id><published>2007-09-12T14:59:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T10:04:44.213-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Coffins</title><content type='html'>I was helping the guy that did my home inspection prepare some coffins (well more like wooden crates) for a family that died.  I was helping him with the kid’s coffin – I was helping him remove burned-on lettering like on lumber from the store.  We were using paint thinner and Q-tips.  The kid’s clothes, a tennis racquet and some other plaything to be buried with him were in a paper bag.  I saw cockroaches coming up from a hole in the ground and I was freaked… I didn’t know what they were at first and my Mom identified them.  The inspection guy wasn’t going to bury the kid – he said that was an old law (that they actually had to bury him).  I think he was going to sell the body?  The cockroaches were huge – like 4”.  I don’t really know what a cockroach looks like, but these kind of had these little shield things behind their necks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the inspector first came, he drove a pickup truck, and starting putting duct tape around the bottom edge of it, saying they were supposed to have measured it – like he was going to run out of the tape.  He didn’t. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another weird thing:  Today I read CNN and there was a story about a man that was arrested in Atlanta for not actually cremating/burying people!!  He kept them behind the crematory.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-5185309539258917801?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/5185309539258917801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=5185309539258917801' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5185309539258917801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5185309539258917801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-with-coffins.html' title='The One with the Coffins'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-5475023812576941364</id><published>2007-09-12T14:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T12:36:58.922-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vampire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bathroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drugs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>The One When My Family Goes Out to Eat / The One Where I’m a Vampire</title><content type='html'>I went out to eat sushi with my family - My Mom, my Dad, my sister and my Aunt Susie was there.  It was Sakura but it was in Northampton on kind of a hill and we had to drive up a really steep road to get to the parking lot.  Once we got there, the parking lot was small and we had to park illegally.  We were the first ones there for the whole day - it was because it was Chinese New Year and sushi is Japanese food.  We sat at a round table and ate a ton of sushi - it was the first time eating it for everyone except me and I think Aunt Susie.  The guy that owns Sakura was there too.  We got a jar of tobiko and there was a price sticker on it for $2.99.  I was surprised it was so cheap.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were kids sitting at a nearby table playing with chopsticks and one flew over to our table.  They kept switching people's chopsticks and the one that ended up at our table had little notches in it like they were making lincoln logs out of them.  On top of the sushi bar was a plate of sushi - like samples - that people could go up and smell to make sure it was fresh.  I did this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We talked about how we haven't spoken to Aunt Susie in a long time and how Dawn and I used to call her 'goo goo' (which means Aunt in Chinese).  She and my mom almost got into an argument about how they stopped talking.  Susie said Mom used to say stuff about her boyfriend, Peter.  They were civil, but there was definitely tension between them.  &lt;br /&gt;For dessert we had a big plate of Oreo cookies on the table but my Dad had a piece of cake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing I remember I was a vampire and going around killing people in the restaurant.  The family was gone at this point.  I went outside and continued.  At this point it was night and dark out.  I had fangs and sharp claws and remember feeling invincible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I would feed (although I do remember biting necks, I don't remember sucking any blood), sometimes just kill.  I was looking for someone specific, a guy (Bryan maybe?) – I think I wanted to kill him, but he went to some mountain/hill.  A monster that resembled the sewer monster from X-files told me.  There were other monsters in the dream but they were on my side.  I was definitely a 'bad guy.' &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were pills in the dream that made me/monsters stronger or made humans strong like vampires.  One girl that was similar to a slayer but not as powerful was chasing me for a bit.  I had to run from her at first but then I took a pill and picked her up and threw her off a balcony.  She was the only one that threatened me - otherwise I still felt invincible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point I remember being in a public bathroom, sitting on the floor across from the sinks, leaning back so they couldn't see me in the mirrors (apparently the vampire-mirror thing didn't apply).  I was going to kill the kids (a lot of the people I killed were teenagers or young adults - like 16 - 23 years old) as they came in the bathroom.  I couldn't tell if was a guys or girls bathroom - but there were both guys and girls in it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't recognize most of the people in the dream except for my family and the guy from Sakura.  All the other people were people I didn't know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-5475023812576941364?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/5475023812576941364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=5475023812576941364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5475023812576941364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5475023812576941364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-when-my-family-goes-out-to-eat-one.html' title='The One When My Family Goes Out to Eat / The One Where I’m a Vampire'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-5117227819458613402</id><published>2007-09-09T19:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-11-26T10:03:23.245-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bathroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with the Toilet That Saved the Town</title><content type='html'>I was jogging outside in a place that seemed familiar in the dream with Tim, John and Tina (I think) from work.  I remember commenting that I wished I had worn pants because I didn’t like the feeling of things touching my legs when I ran (like tall grass and twigs and stuff).  Tim starts running faster and I speed up to kind of race him – John and Tina fall behind, going at their own pace. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get to this big building with these big aqueduct-looking things.  They were kind of water-slide shaped – but bigger and made out of concrete and painted blue like the bottom of a public swimming pool and the paint was cracked and peeling – like the place was old and not kept up.  The plant growth in the area indicated the same thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the aqueduct things acted like a water slide into a large pool and Tim slid down it into the water, which was fairly far down.  I stood at the top and watched Tim and noticed when the wind blew, when it rustled certain leaves on this one tree right near the edge of the pool, it would make this warbling sound. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked closer and on the leaves there were these clearish little bubble sac things with insects inside.  Tim looked at them with me and as we poked at them with a stick, it became apparent what they were – but like Tim was reading something about them but there was nothing to read.  He said that the purpose of the building was that when the insects were messed with (as we were doing), the pool would flood and when the water touched the insects, somehow the insects would poison the water and the water would flow out and poison everyone in the surrounding towns. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed nearby there were other aqueduct-slide things, some pointing out into the forest and stuff.  The water started to fill the pool and we looked around for a way to try and stop it.  There was a bathroom near the pool – with just a toilet inside.  I had an idea and opened the back of the toilet up and fiddled with the ball so that the toilet would never fill and it would just run.  By doing so, it would keep the pool from getting full enough to poison the towns.  I think next we were thinking of breaking the whole toilet but I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-5117227819458613402?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/5117227819458613402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=5117227819458613402' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5117227819458613402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/5117227819458613402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-with-toilet-that-saved-town.html' title='The One with the Toilet That Saved the Town'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-3538612495665255872</id><published>2007-09-09T18:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T13:09:07.456-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vampire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='buffy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One with Dan the Vampire Slayer</title><content type='html'>I moved into this old house with like 5 floors.  Some guy that resembled Wesley from Angel was my realtor and he ended up borrowing money from me ($50).  I found that one set of keys was missing. Next door, the house was filled with kind of rowdy kids - like it was a college frat house or something but coed.  They were smoking pot in the car and stuff.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, I was walking into the house at night and as I shut the door, the latch didn't catch and the door swung open again.  And instantly, in kind of bluish light, all the kids from next-door are standing in the front yard, on the porch, etc.  One of them (seemingly the leader) was leaning up against a tree near the road smoking a cigarette.  The door swung closed and open again and they were all gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea how I got from there to the next part, but all of a sudden I know that the house next door is filled with vampires and they are attacking the house.  I have this big wooden stake but the end is kind of splintered from overuse.  I am also with two other people that are like Wesley and Cordelia.  Killing the vamps was like it is in Buffy - they kind of disintegrate.  After killing the first round of vamps, I stuck the stick into a potted plant - I had a hunch that the soil was sacred soil.  Because there was blood and stuff on the stake, it sizzled in the dirt.  Suspicions confirmed.  Apparently the house used to be an old parochial school and was on consecrated ground.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second round of vampires.  The three of us are running around trying to dodge these arrows the vamps are shooting at the house, through the windows and walls.  When I moved around the house, they followed because somehow they could sense where I was in the house because I was 'the slayer.'  At one point I was on the floor next to the wall dodging all the arrows and stuff crashing through the wall.  Then all of a sudden, [Female Friend 1] appears for a moment. Apparently the head vampire was her ex husband, but his name in the dream was [Female Friend 1's son's name].   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then this couple comes over because they found a set of keys in their house and someone told them to come over here or something.  I threw some dirt on them to make sure they weren't vampires. For some reason, I have the idea in my head that the keys were taken for some guy that is in jail that could help us out.  Then the third round starts, and all of a sudden [ex-coworker 1] is next to me holding a bunch of wooden grill skewers.  I grab them and stick them in the dirt so that they would be effective against the vamps.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-3538612495665255872?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/3538612495665255872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=3538612495665255872' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3538612495665255872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/3538612495665255872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2007/09/one-with-dan-vampire-slayer.html' title='The One with Dan the Vampire Slayer'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-1282846992301990077</id><published>2004-08-29T11:18:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T11:19:29.870-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='missed flight'/><title type='text'>The One When I Was Trying To Go To China</title><content type='html'>I kept dreaming that I was going to China but I kept being late getting to the airport. &amp;nbsp;I think at one point my luggage was at the airport and gone but I was not. &amp;nbsp;At first my dad was taking me, but I missed that and had to switch flights. &amp;nbsp;Then he was gone and my mom was going to take me but then we were watching TV and lost track of time and I missed the second flight!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-1282846992301990077?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/1282846992301990077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=1282846992301990077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1282846992301990077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/1282846992301990077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2004/08/one-when-i-was-trying-to-go-to-china.html' title='The One When I Was Trying To Go To China'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-8783099489117131025</id><published>2003-08-16T16:15:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T16:15:15.038-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hiding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><title type='text'>The One With A's Ankles</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream that I was over A.’s but I wasn’t supposed to be there. &amp;nbsp;We were friends and were hanging out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was wearing a short skirt or short shorts or something and she had really young looking legs, though I think her ankles were kid of big. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy came to deliver something and she made me hide behind a chair because I wasn’t supposed to be there, but the chair had a open bottom – like a papazan chair or something so the guy could still see me hiding. &amp;nbsp;He looked down, saw me and gave her the package. &amp;nbsp;But then he wanted a ball so I threw it to him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-8783099489117131025?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/8783099489117131025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=8783099489117131025' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8783099489117131025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8783099489117131025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-with-as-ankles.html' title='The One With A&apos;s Ankles'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-8281561906330826349</id><published>2002-02-17T16:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T16:10:08.015-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dirt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='worms'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>The One With the School Room and the Worms</title><content type='html'>I was in a schoolroom and L. from Kung Fu was like the teacher but still work people were there. &amp;nbsp;We were going to talk about the problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In class I had my feet (which were barefoot) were resting in dirt… like a potted plant maybe. &amp;nbsp;I felt movement and looked down and there were worms. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman was talking about someone who had been at the company since she stopped teaching – 4 years. &amp;nbsp;I think the woman talking was C. from MM.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-8281561906330826349?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/8281561906330826349/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=8281561906330826349' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8281561906330826349'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8281561906330826349'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2010/08/one-with-school-room-and-worms.html' title='The One With the School Room and the Worms'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2169863372106027608.post-8711902102675997644</id><published>2001-10-08T15:59:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T16:04:12.471-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vampire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='action'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work people'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cemetery'/><title type='text'>The One With Lissa and the Vampires</title><content type='html'>In the dream we had a big snowstorm and for some reason I had to either walk to work, or walk to a bus stop. &amp;nbsp;So I'm walking down a road and lo and behold, Li. has to walk to work as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're walking down the road, trying to find a decent spot to cross the median because the snow is so high. &amp;nbsp;We almost crossed at one point because it seemed doable, although we would be walking on some bushes, but someone pointed out (Lu. maybe??) that we were not walking across bushes, but tops of trees. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went some other way, down a hill and toward this cemetery and church. &amp;nbsp;We went into the church and sat down in the front row. &amp;nbsp;I have the impression that there was some kind of mass on Halloween? &amp;nbsp;Anyway, lots of people came in for the mass and everyone was sitting really close together to fit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember how the mass went, but they brought out some old bag and it contained a vampire. &amp;nbsp;The vampire got out and looked old and nasty. &amp;nbsp;but, when he got out and started feeding on people, he started getting younger and better looking. &amp;nbsp;Li. and I ran out of the church and were running through the cemetery toward a street.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2169863372106027608-8711902102675997644?l=dreamsofdan.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/feeds/8711902102675997644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2169863372106027608&amp;postID=8711902102675997644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8711902102675997644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2169863372106027608/posts/default/8711902102675997644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamsofdan.blogspot.com/2001/10/one-with-lissa-and-vampires.html' title='The One With Lissa and the Vampires'/><author><name>Dan</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12000791744829221939</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='26' height='32' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_-_xP8S6OhNo/SAP99YA389I/AAAAAAAAAuY/uc5AP2fwqAI/S220/danart.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
