Glieuaeiel's DJ

Cat Surgery

I walk into the basement to find an unfamiliar young man sitting with some of my parents. He's holding one of our pet cats, while my dad holds the other. [IRL: The other cat died, actually, about a year ago.] The other cat (a white one) gets away from dad, so I go after it. Evidently something is being done to the cats which they don't like, but which is good for them. Eventually I find the white cat and bring it back downstairs.

Now the stranger is sawing off the cat's front paw with a hacksaw. My parents assure me that this is a necessary surgery, since the cats' paws never healed right from that time they fell from a great height. I remember that event; it was somehow my fault. [IRL: No such thing has ever happened.] Despite my parents' assurances, I still think that this operation will probably kill the cats. Which is a real shame, because I think this first cat in particular had a long, eventful life ahead of him, in spite of his limp. The man finishes with the first cat, and we give him the second one.

Later, the first cat jumps up onto the couch next to me. I'm shocked to see that he has both front paws back already, and they don't seem to be paining him at all. Do cats have some kind of regenerative ability?

Manual Roller Coaster

Right up ahead, my sisters and I see the entrance of a big covered slide. We dive right in; I'm last. It's a sort of man-powered roller coaster: the idea is to crawl through as quickly as possible. Visibility isn't so good, so sometimes a sharp curve will take you off guard. Then suddenly I reach a long downward segment that I can just slide straight down. This is a blast! A bit later, I accidentally run into my sisters, who apparently just ran into each other. The youngest one apparently tripped because of an unusually long, sharp turn (something like 720 degrees), and then we all crashed right into her. Still, we extricate ourselves in moments and continue the ride.

At the end of the ride, there are a bunch of computers. You can type in your identification and it will tell you how long it took you to go through the ride, and how you compare to that day's other participants. I got 611th, which I think isn't too bad. Then I talk to my sisters, and it turns out the youngest one got 609th. I hadn't expected her to do better than I did! I'm a bit put out, but good for her anyway.

Exclusive Buffet

I'm eating dinner with some classmates at a big restaurant. We're having an important conversation, when suddenly someone comes out on the stage at one side of the room. The person talking to me has his back to the stage, so I try to shush him so I can hear what the woman on stage has to say. I realize I seem a bit rude, but surely he'll understand. A few other actors come onstage, and they start performing a play.

I have only a moment to feel surprised before a bulky, intimidating man comes up to our table and starts taking away our plates, whether or not we're done with them.

"I'm sorry," he says firmly, "we're closing now unless you're part of the club." He has a bit of an accent.

I remember that this place serves a buffet until 8:00, when the actual fancy dinner starts. You have to pay extra to be part of that, or something. And now it's 8:00, so we have to go. On the way out, some of my classmates snag something from the dessert station at the buffet. That's a little rude of them, since technically we're not allowed to eat anything from here anymore. Good thing I got my dessert earlier. Outside on the sidewalk, I hear some other classmates complaining about not having eaten a full dinner because there was nothing good at the buffet. I'm glad I avoided that problem by eating plenty, even if the food was pretty unremarkable.

First Day of Classes (LUCID)

I get up later than usual and hurry to find breakfast. I pass one of the dormitory suites, where apparently someone has set up a small continental breakfast. Interesting, to see such a business here. I get some food there. Then it's time to find my first class.

A lot of time has passed, so when I go back into the hallway, I see a gigantic line of people coming out of the suite's main entrance. It goes all the way down the hallway and down a staircase. I'm glad I missed the line, but suddenly I realize that so many people in line means these are probably the people who get breakfast immediately before heading to class. So I have very little time to collect my things and find my class. I hurry down the staircase, trying not to jostle the line of people too much.

[about 6 classes later . . .]

My next class is titled something like "Practice Session." My guess would be that that refers to a free slot for me to practice my instrument, but that doesn't make much sense, since I'm not a music major and this is not a conservatory. But in any case, I have to find the classroom, which is called the MUSIC room, appropriately enough. But the name "MUSIC" is actually some kind of alphabetical index of where to find the class. Like, I need to find floor M, then hallway U, etc. I suppose the music department thought they were very clever when they designed this room numbering scheme.

I'm hurrying down a surprisingly dark corridor, feeling rather lost. I think I'm on the right floor, but I can't find "U" anywhere. Suddenly, I come upon a library, where my orchestra conductor is talking to some of her students. Well, it's good to find other live people here, but I don't really want to talk to her right now, so I avoid them. Consulting my class schedule again, I realize that my next class isn't even in the MUSIC room. I've had about three other classes in there today, but this one is somewhere else. That's a relief, until I realize that the room shouldn't just disappear if I don't happen to have a class in it right now. But I don't have time to worry about that; I have to find this other place.

It strikes me that today has been an inauspicious first day of classes. I had been hoping that after last quarter (which was very stressful) I would have learned something about avoiding stress and staying calm--but alas, it seems like I have not. Especially since I seem to remember that I skipped most of one of my classes this morning because I had to finish an essay that was technically due last quarter.

My map has a sort of sticker on it, labeled with the name of the place I'm looking for, but it's way out in the middle of nowhere, and the map doesn't show any route to get there. I'm not convinced that's the right place, so I wander around some more. Then I realize I'm just pretending that it's not the place because it's much farther away than I expected. I should just suck it up and go there, even if it will take a while. Looking at the syllabus for this class (which is a small, staple-bound book with a brown cover), I notice that there's even some advice printed on the back cover: the professor says we should leave for his class within ten seconds of the end of the previous class if we want to make it to his class within ten minutes of the alleged start time. I start walking, but then I realize I'm not carrying a backpack or any school supplies at all. And I have only fifteen minutes until class starts. I might make it on time if I keep walking there, but I'll definitely be late if I go back to my room first. I wish I could just "Accio" my school supplies so they catch up to me while I'm walking. Of course, that's just wishful thinking--

--but then I realize that I'm dreaming! Sweet! Okay, I can fly back to my room, get my stuff, and fly to class, and still be there with time to spare. So I set out to do just that. [On my way to class, I lose lucidity.]

The route to class turns into a dirt hiking trail. I try going straight to the classroom, but the path leads under a giant boulder, and I discover that there's not enough clearance for me to squeeze through. Backing out, I make my way around the boulder instead. There are two young boys jumping around on the rocks, shooting at each other with what I identify as laser guns. One shouts at the other, "Mister, show me your ID card!" Clearly, they're imitating the adults from around here, the security guards that watch the entrance to the secure facility in which my class takes place. Okay, I should try to find the guardhouse so I can gain entrance to the facility. There's a small wooden cabin across the road that looks promising.

Inside the cabin, I find the teacher for my class. In order to pass the gatehouse, every student has to sign a contract. All of the contracts are hand-written (by the professor), and I can't read mine at all--it's totally illegible. But one by one, all of the other students are leaving the gatehouse to go to class, and in desperation I finally just sign the contract.

The classroom seems rather like an art studio. There are a lot of heavy-duty tables spread around the room; some of them are pushed against the wall like booth seats at restaurants. It is at one of these latter tables that the professor is sitting, and he invites the class to gather 'round his table while he explains what we'll do in today's class.

Frags:

• a few different dreams involving swimming pools
• something about my family's pet cat

Close (7:05)

I've just come from a formal-attire event, so I'm pretty well-dressed for this birthday party. I'm introduced to a relative of someone from the year above me in high school; they look uncannily similar. In general, I'm seeing a lot of people here whom I haven't seen for a long time. Several of the girls are giving me smiles and hugs and other forms of physical contact. It's a good feeling.

I walk around the house and find an acquaintance alone in the kitchen. I don't know him too well, so it's a bit awkward trying to make conversation. Later, I run into that relative-of-a-friend again, but she introduces herself to me with a different name. I realize she must be a twin--I seem to recall them telling me something like that. "You must be ____'s sister," I say.

When I try to leave, I need to recover an ID card from somewhere. But when volunteers at the event were going around using the cards, they managed to switch everyone's around, so we're all walking around comparing cards and trying to find our own. I wish the volunteers had been more careful. I end up holding a set of papers held in sheet protectors, fastened by a key ring. Later I give them back to someone who lives at the house. Apparently they're letters he's received. He keeps them in sheet protectors because of their emotional significance.

Legacy (7:05)

Suddenly, Dad speaks up from his workstation to announce that he can't maintain the Quantz website anymore. (This website has to do with geology, not webcomics.) He goes on to explain that he forgot to add a "--" to a statement decrementing a variable, and he considers this a sign of his age. He doesn't want to keep coding, and he thinks it's time for me to continue the legacy. He's going to give me an administrator login. Behind him on the computer is the splash screen for the website, which currently shows an animation of my name, a password field with a blinking cursor, and the word "Soon. . . ." Family-run business, indeed.

I decide to humor him, so now we have to go outside and perform maintenance on the system. There's a sort of crawlspace near the driveway which is covered in cat litter. Dad says the inventor of cat litter lived here before us, so this crawlspace was the first of its kind. I can't see the bottom, so I take my time lowering myself into the area. It's awkward. The entrance is sort of like an oversized staircase, except that the ceiling isn't high enough so you almost have to slide down on your back.

Companions (7:05)

I'm in a neighbor's house. They have a lot of pets. I might even say, too many pets. There's a bird's nest in an upper corner. I can't see what's going on, but from all the noise, I suspect maybe the birds are having sex. There are some cats and dogs, and also a giant rabbit. The rabbit is vocally angry about being locked in a cage, except it's not actually in a cage, it's just lying in the middle of the living room. Someone who lives in the house comes over, and the rabbit hops away. I hope I didn't offend the person by implying that they don't take good enough care of their pets. The rabbit poops out what looks like a hot dog, and the person tosses it into a nearby pen containing yet more pets. Presumably they will play with it. I suppose it would be expensive caring for this many pets, so you would have to be stingy about things like pet toys.

At one point, I'm playing with my family's cat. He's lying on his back, swiping at me with his claws. I've never understood why this cat never learned to play less violently.