No one else offered to help me move the desks, so I set my desks down and started to play a game. I knew the rules, though it was a complicated game. I needed to fill in square holes on the top of the game board with tiles of various colors. I thought I had lost, then I saw a move that I could do if I had the right pieces of cloth. I got a stack of cloths from beside me; one was blue-green and the other was white and blue. I put them in the right order, then spun the thermometer to see who would move next. The thermometer was actually a small top, which, when it stopped spinning, would land on the game board pointing in a particular direction. This time, however, it bounced off the board. I tried again, and it bounced off again; this time clear off of the table and onto the floor. I commented that the thermometer didn’t want to “thermomet” the way it was supposed to, and tried one more time. It bounced off, and someone caught it; it was a brown glass bottle like a Coke or beer bottle. It was chipped, and I looked around the kitchen and decided I needed to make another one with the glasscutter. I thought that I might need a new glasscutter, so I got in the car and drove down the road. I stopped at a gas station convenience store, and opened the front of the car — one got out of this car by taking the whole front section off, including the steering wheel, and dashboard, and hood, and engine. I thought that such a car would be very claustrophobic, and I had a brief image of myself sitting in the car with no doors which got smaller and smaller, and the outside was yellow and dimply like the skin of a lemon.

My upstairs neighbor and a friend were in my apartment, dressed in “rapper” clothes (stocking caps, puffy down jackets, baggy pants). They were here to help me cook the stew for the party. They also had a mechanical doll, which they put in the fruit basket on the table in the living room. It started to dance. I commented that it would probably knock something over, so they put it on the floor. I exited from the store by different door, and went back out into the parking lot. I wasn’t sure which car was mine, so I suspended myself about three feet from the ground and flew by swimming with one hand. A car passed by. I still couldn’t find my own car, so I flew up to about twenty feet into the air. There it was: there were two cars there, both dark green. One was a mini-van but I thought it was my car. The other one I knew actually was my car. An alarm began to sound. A narrator said, “And so he began to wonder about the oxygen,” and I landed next to the minivan. A man who looked like Jimi Hendrix drove up on a motorcycle. I didn’t pay attention to him. I went over to the other car and told the alarm to turn off. It didn’t obey my voice command. I told it again, louder. Still it continued. I shouted at it, taking the keys out of my pocket and yelled at them. The alarm continued. The narrator said, “Having failed to turn off the alarm with his command, he turned,” and I looked at the man who looked like Jimi Hendrix. “I was wondering if you could float me a ride,” he said. I was about to go in the door of my old apartment in California. There was a woman standing outside, who said that her two sons had become intelligent flies for a while, and could I please take care of them for a day. I don’t remember what happened to her, but the two flies came in the door of the apartment with me. They looked like quite ordinary bugs, which normally I would have tried to shoo out of the apartment. I shut the door behind me, and then saw that the dining had become a TV show. There was a man, who was the talk-show host, wearing a bright blue suit, and he was about to interview a brownish-colored hound dog. Before he could ask anything, however, the dog wildly took a bite out of something in the air. “Oh—show’s over!” said the talk-show host, “The dog just ate one of the intelligent flies!” In another second, the talk-show host and the flies were forgotten, and the dog had become a rocket that blasted off into the apartment. The apartment in fact now held all the vastness of the universe; it looked like a 3-dimensional version of one of those Hubble deep-field pictures though the walls were still visible beyond it. The rocket (now a giant spaceship) was voyaging outward to see if it could find the big bang. There was a brief and fantastic show of bright colors spray-painted across the universe. Then I was lying down, looking at the inside of a window that was both vertical and horizontal, and I commented that this was my favorite resort. We were eating at an outdoor restaurant. I picked up a spoon and it started fluttering up and down like a flag in the wind. I put it down and picked up a fork, and it did the same; then got loose from my hand and flew along the edge of the picnic table, away from both of us, and stuck into the stucco wall.

I was standing in the house that I grew up; the view out the open door was down a straight street (down a hill) west towards the ocean. My Mom was there also, and so was one of my childhood friends. There was an extremely large and obese orange and black striped cat sniffing around on the floor. I picked up the cat to pet it; it growled at me, a kind of humming growl, so I put it down again. A coyote jumped at the cat from my right side. The cat threw up on the carpet and bolted out the door. The coyote was gone (and forgotten) as quickly as it had appeared; the cat continued running down the winding road towards the ocean, spewing a slippery orange substance as it went, once slipping on it. The scene was not shocking or gross to me; my Mom commented that cat knew how to take care of itself. My Mom and I then walked town that same road (there was no orange mess there now), discussing something a length, though I don’t remember what. We came to a telephone pole at the bottom of the hill, about a quarter mile from the house, and she went onto a different road, heading south, and I turned around and walked a couple of steps back into the house again. It was the same house, though now it seemed to be the cabin that my uncle had on an island in Puget Sound. The walls were covered with tall mirrors. I was too far away for any of the mirrors to reflect anything other than a tiny spot; the other people in the house (there seemed to be about four or five) were all standing or sitting closer so they made multiple reflections. I went into the back room where there was only one mirror. I wanted to go swimming but couldn’t because they only had one t-shirt. Then I was in the library. There was a luminous white mattress floating in the air in a room off to the side of the church sanctuary, and to the other side of the room there was a pool where I took a bath (it wasn’t the baptismal). I took my shoes off, slipped my foot off of the mattress where I was sitting, and complained how cold the water was, then I determinedly plunged both feet into the same warm water. I stood there for a few minutes, then I walked around to the side of the house and went in the back door by the kitchen. My shoes were on again. There was a child, a little girl with blonde hair, sitting on the dinner table; she wasn’t looking at me so I concluded that the owners of the house had told their children not to look at strangers. I went to the refrigerator, looked at some of the pictures that had been posted there; two were of people wearing a round head brace. I went back outside to the pool and put some shampoo on the washcloth and started to wash my hair. There were some guys at the other end of the grassy hard who started laughing at how my hair looked. I could see my own head, and my hair was plastered in feather-like shapes exactly like the feathers of female mallard duck. The men in the yard said it looked like something from a comic strip. I commented that I’d seen something like it on a minor character in Calvin and Hobbes. That minor character appeared; a smooth-haired yellowish-colored wiener dog. It put its paws on the picnic tale next to me and jumped up, then looked at me, begging for something. I didn’t want it following me around, so I blew in its face to annoy it. It didn’t want to leave and it followed me. We went down a long hallway. I was back in my old dorm at college. I was on the 6th floor, which was wrong, so I walked down the hallway to the 5th floor. I went into a room with several other people. I didn’t’ know any of them. We talked for a while, I don’t remember about what, and while I was sitting against the wall at the back of the room I saw that the man next to me had a guitar. He had a glass slider on the strings, and I said, “Yeah — play us a blues solo!” He responded, “No way!”, put the glass slider in his pocket and played a long avant-garde piece, rather like Boulez, with an electronic accompaniment. Just as he finished, I walked down the road towards the east. The sky was blue and there were views of snowy mountains all around. I knew that the guitar piece I had just heard related to the scenery in some way. I turned up a dirt path heading north; here there was a tangle of thick brown branches, some of them growing out the ground, blocking my way. I commented to myself that they were just like alien spider webs, and I cut them apart. I walked past them to the beach. The water lapped at my feet, and then I realized I had to turn away from the beach and continue heading east to go to my friend’s house. I did so, and passed several houses into a dirty-looking town square, with old ugly abandoned houses all around. There were to or three men there, who looked vaguely threatening. One of the showed me a pair of scissors, and said, “This is not a weapon.” He threw it at me, and missed. The other showed me a pocket knife, and said, “This is not a weapon either,” and he threw it at me, and missed. Then they turned away from me and walked down the elevated walkway. I did not feel particularly intimidated, but another man stood next to me, and he said, “They’re actually frightened of you. Just do something theatrical.” So I flew over their heads, down the dimly lit hallway, crashed though the wall at the end, landed on the pavement and waited for them. They climbed down a rope to street level and congratulated me for quite a show. In a sunny mid-afternoon, there was an usser clinging to the wall above my bed. An usser was an animal but it didn’t look like an animal. It was a vertical rectangle, roughly the size of a shoebox lid. Over the top half of its front surface, there was a perfectly hemispherical dome. It had no other features, and it was all the same color. Ten or fifteen people had gathered to look at the usser and comment that it was coughing, but nobody knew where its mouth was or why it was coughing. Then as I woke up, the people and usser disappeared out of the room.