non-lucid

Psychic Energy

I'm sitting in the living room, explaining to two of my mom's friends that I feel really frustrated about something. One of them asks me where in my body the frustration is located--where do I feel it most strongly? At first it seems like an absurd question, but then I realize that a lot of the unpleasant feeling seems to be centered right behind my forehead. I tell them as much (using a scientific term like "prefrontal lobe" or "cerebral cortex"), and they take a closer look at my forehead. "Yeah," one of the women says. "There are a lot of wrinkles there." Wrinkles, as in, the lines your face makes when you frown. She means that maybe if I stopped my unconscious frowning, I would start to feel better. I consider this to be pretty deep advice.

Frags:

• Using the Internet and frustrated because the sound suddenly cuts out. But it comes back.
• Starting from an Egyptian skeleton, a human body is assembled, one organ system at a time.
• our pet dog

Sentient Jaguar

Suddenly I spot a mouse running along the side of the room. This mouse has been hiding in our house for a while now, so I'm really excited that we'll finally get a chance to catch it. I send Mom to get a plastic cup or something that we can use to scoop up the rodent. While she's gone, I try to grab the mouse with my bare hands, and I'm surprised to find that I succeed. I guess mice aren't really as fast as I've always thought they were. But then suddenly I realize that it will be able to bite me, so I rewind and try to catch the mouse again, this time in a slightly safer way that keeps its teeth away from my hand. Then Mom comes back with a square Tupperware container, I drop the mouse inside, and we snap on the lid. Excitedly, I run upstairs, showing the mouse to all of my family members on the way, mostly just to see their scared/grossed-out reactions when they realize what it is. Then I go out onto the back porch. In one motion, I take off the lid and flick sharply the container, so the mouse goes flying out into the yard. I watch the grass sway as it runs through the lawn, and suddenly another larger animal comes out of the night to start chasing the mouse! It's a squirrel!

Wait, aren't squirrels herbivores?

Oh, oops, trick of the light, it's actually a jaguar. They're native to North America, you know. I realize this jaguar could be dangerous to me as well, so I hurry back inside the house. Then I realize our pet dog is still leashed outside, so I slide open the door and start calling her back. She seems interested by the jaguar, but with my sister's help, we manage to get her back inside. A few moments later, I notice that the dog is back outside, and I wonder what happened until my sister says she didn't realize we weren't supposed to let the dog back out again.

Later, I'm hiding in a side room, watching through a window as something walks around in the kitchen. It's walking on two legs, and it's wearing a hat. I think it might be the jaguar. Admittedly, its behavior is rather human-like (at one point, it starts dancing around the kitchen, moving its hips and waving its arms), but this only makes me more nervous. A sentient predator is just that much more dangerous. I decide to go outside and hide somewhere.

Once outside, I decide the roof would be a good place to hide. But once I get up there, I see another shape moving around in the driveway on the other side of the house. It starts coming onto the roof as well. Maybe it's just a person, but I'm not about to wait around and see. I jump back down and go back inside.

Soon after, my parents introduce me to the man in the kitchen. Turns out it was just a neighbor. And the person outside is his son. Oops. I hope they don't think I was rude.

Clock Bomb

There's a bomb that looks like a clock. The second hand ticks from number to number, and the numbers go dark once the hand reaches them. Each tick is accompanied by a kind of high-pitched squeak. Halfway through the countdown, I wake up to realize that the squeak is coming from an insect or a bird (or something) outside my window.

Frags:

• looking up terms in the glossary of the fantasy book series I'm currently reading (namely, The Wheel of Time)

Airport

A bunch of my buds and I decided to go to the airport together. We've been delayed in various ways, so I'm relieved when one guy finally gets back with our boarding passes so we can head to our respective gates. I start speedwalking along a hallway. There's a stranger about to cut me off going around a corner (I'm squeezed between him and the wall), so I try to dart past him. The only trouble is, someone else tries to do the same on his other side, so we all end up crashing into each other and making a really awkward scene. I hurriedly apologize and start lecturing everyone about what a bad decision we both made there. The other guy apologizes also (as much to me as to the stranger, it seems), and I recognize him as a high school friend. But I'm desperate to vacate the scene, so I dash away again without saying hi. I feel bad about it, since I never got a chance to talk with him over summer break, either.

As I walk through more hallways, I see a girl a bit younger than me trying out a kind of play microphone. From what I hear as I pass by, it changes your voice so you sound like a robotic alien.

I reach a green tile ramp set into the middle of the floor; it's about twenty feet wide. I set down my things beside me and happily slide down it. There are lots of twists and turns, forking paths, and side hallways. I start to feel a bit confused about the layout of the airport. Once, I shoot off the end of a flat section and gravity doesn't work too quickly, so I crash lightly into a vertical wall a few feet farther forward. I'm frustrated that the ramp didn't work properly, but I'm not injured or anything. I continue going down. A girl comes sliding out of a side hallway, and I recognize her as a housemate right before we crash into each other. We both laugh about it. Behind me, I hear some people from the group I arrived with. They're talking about how it's later than they thought it was, and they were supposed to be at their gate quite a while ago. Upon hearing this, I realize that I'm not even sure what gate I'm supposed to be going to.

Well, that kind of takes the fun out of sliding. I get off the slide and fish my crumpled boarding pass out of my pocket. It's the smaller part, the stub that ushers usually take when you go into the theater. I hope I still have the other part. But whatever, gate information should be on this part as well. When I look for the gate, I'm horrified to see that the terminal is specified not with one but with FOUR letters, which seem to follow a complicated pattern of upper and lower case. This airport is far more confusing than I feared. I have no idea where that terminal is, much less how to get there. I'm probably going to miss my flight.

Uncomfortable Music

There's a concert coming up, and I still need to practice the music. I pull it out and start working, but it's the most uncomfortable music I've ever played. I feel like I'm engaged in spiritual battle with some demonic entity, and the music is feeding it, making it stronger. I decide to stop practicing before the music kills me.

But now it's concert time, and I still haven't practiced. This is one of those orchestras where you only get a couple rehearsals and you only get the one concert, so if I don't do a good job on this concert, I may as well not be in the orchestra at all. So while we're all sitting on stage warming up, I try to get in a bit more practice. Realistically, though, it's too little too late.

Climbing Rock

One of the main attractions in this building is its indoor climbing rock. Its surface is rough but its shape is roughly ellipsoid, and its dimensions in meters are about 15 by 20 on the base, and 3 high. It's granite, or anyway some kind of gray stone. The sides are a bit steep, so the attraction is that it's challenging to get on and off of it, but once you're on top you can run around and play games with the other victors.

I finally reach the front of the line, and I reach the top without incident. I don't have anything to do up there, though, so I just walk across to the other corner and try to find my way down. Turns out this side is much steeper than I expected. As I'm clinging to the rock, a building employee walks over and sticks something on my arm. I can't pick it up since I need my arms to hang on, so I use my forehead to try and press the thing more firmly to my arm. I'll look at it later. Anyway, I fiddle and shift around for a few minutes without making much downward progress, but then I notice that some "rungs" have been cut into this side of the rock a few feet to my right: rectangular gouges about two inches deep, spaced like the rungs of a ladder. I use them to get down, but then I start feeling like I cheated, and I start wondering whose idea it was to put rungs on the climbing rock, anyway. I see my old math TA standing nearby, so I ask him if there's a more legit way to climb down the rock in the place I had been trying to do it. He doesn't know, but during the course of the conversation I become convinced that for the sake of my own self-worth, I need to go back onto the climbing rock and try again.

The rungs on the rock go all the way down to a hallway below the floor on which the climbing rock is located. I'm not allowed to go back up the rungs, so I'll have to find some other way to the floor above. There doesn't seem to be an elevator in sight, and I begin to wonder whether this building is designed to make it difficult to get back to that floor.

I wander around for quite some time. In the process, I come across a darkened room with a bunch of merry-go-rounds or bumper cars or something spinning all over the place on the floor. I need to cross the room, but it'll be hard to do that without getting my shins severely bruised. Seriously, who thought this room was a good idea? I do some desperate dives and jumps and hops, and somehow I make it.

At another time, I see something in the wall that looks like an elevator button, and I press it without thinking. A second later, though, I see that the windows in the sliding doors on this wall are showing me an underground tunnel, not an elevator shaft. This button must call a subway train. Horizontal transport rather than vertical. Sure enough, a train soon comes roaring up to the station. Ha ha, very funny, building designer.

Finally I find some hallways populated by people, and I even recognize some of them. They're students from my university. I'm surprised to note that a lot of the girls look quite attractive. Isn't my school one of those where you're supposed to need a special pair of goggles for this kind of thing? Maybe that's not true! That would be cool. Anyway, I go into a room where some acquaintances of mine are having a baking party.

Road Rage

I accidentally drop a rubber duck behind a movie screen playing Finding Nemo. Damn it. I'm going to have to tow it out with my car. I get in and start zooming down the highway, swerving haphazardly between other cars and going just about as fast as my car can manage. Once, I start passing a car just as it starts passing the car in front of it. Meanwhile there's yet another car in the far left lane, so for a few seconds there are four of us cars driving side-by-side in a three-lane highway. I don't care. I'm angry. Eventually I decide it's time to turn around, so I pull one of those parking-brake 180s and shift gears without putting in the clutch. For a while I dodge traffic going in the opposite direction until I find myself on the right side of the highway, halfway between two lanes and tailgating both cars in front of me. One of them suddenly brakes, and I almost crash into it. That was a bit too close for my liking, so I try to give them a bit more space. But there are cars everywhere and I'm still trying to get things under control when I look up and there's a white screen with the word "Nemo" right in front of me and I swerve just enough to crash into the screen broadside, and the car comes to a halt. The rubber duck falls out, rolls behind the movie screen, and this time rolls all the way under the refrigerator as well. Damn it, now I'm never going to get it out!

Party at Alex Day's

Tonight is an orchestra rehearsal. It's the first one, but it might as well be the dress rehearsal, since we only get a couple of rehearsals before the concert. I decide I should wear concert attire, just to get used to it. I'm running late, so I resent the few minutes it takes to turn on my laptop and check my email to find the one where the conductor tells us what concert attire will be. By the time I'm dressed and outside, it's five minutes to seven. I can't remember whether rehearsal is scheduled for six or for seven, but in either case, I'm going to be late. I decide to go anyway, because even half a rehearsal is better than none when you only get two in the first place.

Unfortunately, there's some car trouble. It takes a few minutes to work out, and then Dad and some of his friends give the car (in neutral) a push down the road. I start running down the road after it, trying to reach it before the road curves and the car crashes into the fence. I barely get there in time, diving into the car to cheers from the group still standing around my driveway. I dove too far, ending up in the passenger seat, so I climb back over to the driver side. I stick in the key and twist it, the engine comes on, and I turn the steering wheel. As I drive out of the neighborhood, I try to think of what else I need to do in order to get the car under control. Maybe I should turn on the radio?

Later, I'm walking. I decide to take a shortcut through some buildings. It's a more direct route, but I'm not sure if there actually is a path all the way through. I go up some stairs, down some stairs, and through some arches. The buildings are made out of butterscotch-colored stucco (or plaster or something; I'm not sure what it's called). Suddenly I see an arch that opens onto an apartment full of people, including Alex Day and my sister! Alex invites me in, and we start talking. There's a really fun atmosphere at this party; I'm impressed. I wonder if Alex and my sister are dating. Just for fun, sometimes I answer Alex's or my sister's questions in Spanish. He invites me to stay, but I insist that I must be going: I've got places to be and work to do. My sister explains that Alex feels threatened by my productivity as a musician. Hmmm. Interesting.

I ask Alex if he knows any way though the buildings so I can finish my shortcut. He doesn't, but he tells me I should ask Kim (Nieuwenhuis). "Her apartment's just upstairs," he says. "I spent a couple of days up there a while ago. It's one of the happiest places I've ever been." Well then. I guess I should go up there.

Just then, a group of girls run past in the hallway outside. They're laughing and running upstairs, and I think I recognize Kim among them. "Kim!" I call, hurrying to the doorway. But either it wasn't her, or she didn't hear me. No one turns around.

In any case, I think I remember this place. I think I've been here before. If memory serves, I should be able to go down this hall and around a corner and--yes! I'm outside! It should be easy to get to the concert hall from here. But then I realize that I've left my viola in Alex's apartment, so I have to go back for that. Somehow I start watching a new video of his that's based on a pun on his name: Alex Day vs. Alex Night, or something. There's a bouncing ball that turns into a bounding dog that turns into two smaller balls that Alex throws that turn into one bigger bouncing ball again, and so forth.

Frags:

• Watching an online advertisement for a cosmetic skin product
• Posting on the DV forums. I was glad when I realized I was doing this, because that meant I was actually participating in the forums beyond just my introduction thread.

Class Policies

I come to class early and run into "Cameron," a high school acquaintance. He tells me about a sort of email writing group that the teacher, Mr. G, runs. Students write in with philosophical and spiritual questions, then the group discusses what the answers might be. Recently, Mr. G has re-forwarded a lot of those questions, saying that people tend to spend a long time thinking about them then forget to reply, and that it's time to revitalize the discussion group. In particular, Cameron opens up a web page that looks a lot like the "check subscriptions" page on the DV forums. There are two threads in the inbox, both of which have been resurrected by Mr. G. But the most recent post before him was from like 2006, so Cameron and I laugh about how ridiculously old they are.

With a jolt, I notice that it's past time for class to have started, and I should be in my seat. I snatch my backpack from the floor and speedwalk down the long table in the middle of the room until I find an open seat, hyper-conscious of how disruptive I'm being. But when I sit down, I realize that Mr. G isn't here yet. Also, the long table at which I'm sitting has been covered with equally long, yellow venetian blinds, which apparently have been removed from the windows along one side of the classroom. (Through these windows, the inside hallway is visible.) I'm surprised no one's gotten rid of the blinds yet. I decide this must be a psychological experiment. Mr. G's trying to see if anyone will point out how strange it is to have venetian blinds for a tablecloth, or if instead we'll all just sit around waiting for someone else to speak up first. Well then. I get up and start rolling up the blinds (lengthwise), and before long others start helping me, and we finish that job. Then I ask an older woman if the proper way to store venetian blinds is to continue to roll up the blinds the other way, like a sleeping bag. She says yes, so I do. I hand the roll (which is not much larger than a dinner plate) to one of the other students.

Then Mr. G arrives. He takes the roll and starts hanging up the blinds over the windows. Oops. I guess that's what we should have done. I take the other half of the blinds and try to help by hanging those up. There are two rubber hooks which I have to snap over a pole above the window, similar to a shower rod. The pole is a bit higher that I can comfortably reach, and it takes some force to get the hook onto the pole. But I see this only as a challenge, and after some jumping and stretching, I manage to hang the blinds. Belatedly I realize that this may itself have been a psychological test, testing how stubborn I am about doing things myself when it would be easier with assistance.

Mr. G starts talking about class policies. There are only four big rules, which he calls "domains." They're all pretty standard for high school classrooms; stuff along the lines of, "Listen when the teacher is speaking." He shows us a well-designed, colorful poster of four students arranged in a diamond, each demonstrating one of the four rules. He also points out that the only reason he has rules at all is for the symbolism of it. If he makes rules, it establishes him as a leader of the class, and that's what allows society to function. Interesting.

Frags:

• I thought I wrote down a few other dreams, but those must all have been false awakenings. One of those dreams I debated whether to "censor" using spoiler tags, but then I decided it wasn't necessary.

Tight-Rope

A large group of students slowly makes its way across campus, myself among them. I wish we were moving faster, but my heavy backpack makes it difficult for me to pass anyone. Fortunately, when we reach the courtyard outside of our destination building, a lot of the group stops to socialize--they're not actually committed enough to go all the way up to the destination room. I'm able to pull in front and lead the dozen or so of us who are left.

As we start ascending the stairs, I realize that I don't remember which floor we're going to. It's been a while since this group last met, you see. I ask the people behind me, but they don't remember, either. On a landing halfway between the fourth and fifth floors, the stairs stop, and we'll have to ascend the rest of the way on a tight-rope, with just one other rope at about chest height to hold onto. Then I remember that our floor is the first possible floor above this point. But it's not the fifth floor, because there's a message printed along the bottom of the wall up there that says something like "This is a false door." So we won't be able to go through that one. That means we have a floor and a half of tight-rope walking to do, which is a bit scary but not impossible.

I head out onto the rope, and the group follows me. Halfway to the fifth floor, the girl behind me slips, screams, and throws her arms around me from behind to catch onto the rope in front of me. Her feet are dangling in midair. I just try to hold on as solidly as possible so she can depend upon me for support. She sounds very scared, so I also try to reassure her that it's not very far to the sixth floor, and I start to walk her through getting her feet back under herself. She gets her feet back on the rope, but she needs to get her hands back behind me as well in order for us to advance. I tell her to do it one arm at a time, but it turns out that we're actually holding onto a vertical rope which I'll first need to move behind my own body. So I have to do some balancing of my own, but eventually we manage it and continue on up.

Starting at the fifth floor, there's a four-inch-wide strip of wood running along the walls that we can use to stand on, rather than standing on the tight-rope. It's much easier that way, and without further incident, we arrive in the room on the sixth floor. A couple of old women are waiting for us inside.

Orange Soda

When I open my locker at the gym, I'm surprised to find it stuffed full of soda pop and food. I remember I left that stuff in there a while ago, and since this is only about the second time I've used my gym locker this term, I guess I haven't had time to remove it yet, or even had a chance to remember that it was there. In any case, it's time to start taking this stuff home. My backpack can't fit it all at once, so this will take at least three visits: one for the orange soda, one for the root beer, and one for all the food. In addition to the orange soda, this time I also pack my dream journal. I'm a bit confused that it's there--I've been using it recently, haven't I?--until I remember that I've been carting it back and forth daily using my gym bag. It's high time I took it home permanently.

Suddenly I look around to discover that all of the lights are off. I've been here so long that by now it's after hours and all of the employees are gone. Part of me thinks that this is cool, but another part wonders if an axe murderer hasn't also sneaked in after hours to kill me on my way out the door.

I make it back to my house and announce to Mom that I've brought home a lot of orange soda. We both sit around the coffee table and I start taking it out. The first one I remove is open and half empty. "I forgot some of them were open!" I say. I really hope I haven't spilled soda all over my school things. "I guess all of them were open," I observe, as I take out the rest of the cans. There are several wet spots on my binder from spilled soda, but none larger than a dime.

Under Construction

Taking a shortcut through the math department, I see a giant pile of dirt in one of the hallways. Apparently part of the building is under construction. I follow Prof. S up and down a short staircase that goes around the dirt. Prof. S walks into a classroom. I'm curious what he's doing this late in the evening, so I peek in the windows. It looks like there are a lot of professors and older students in the room--must be some kind of advanced seminar. I decide it's time to get moving again.

Summer School

On Monday, we have an orientation. Then I go to bed to get rested for classes tomorrow.

For the first day of classes, we have to get in line for some kind of check-in. The line moves slowly, and by the time it's 8:25 I'm still a few places back from the front. My first class is at 8:30, so I think I need to go. I pick up my bags and leave the line, but one of the check-in ladies intercepts me.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you have an early appointment today?" she asks.

I'm confused, because I don't think class counts as an "appointment," and doesn't every student in this room have class at 8:30? But we go through check-in anyway, and when we're finished, suddenly I remember that I was supposed to set back my watch by forty-five minutes. So I'm actually not late at all. No wonder no one else was worried.

I head to my morning class, thinking I'll be early. But when I get to the room, there are already a lot of people there. What? It's not even 9:00, and this class doesn't start until 10:00! But then I remember that this class is usually MWF, and we couldn't have class yesterday because of orientation. So the professor is squeezing in an extra session on Tuesday morning to make up for it. Hmph. Maybe he ought just have planned to have one less day's worth of material in the course.

The morning class involves a running game where there are a lot of items strewn around a medium-sized room with a grid-patterned floor. Sometimes new items appear in the middle of the grid squares. There are certain items we're looking for, worth more points than the others. We're competing to see who can collect the most points.

The first time I play the game, I think I did pretty well. But it turns out another guy actually won, because he grabbed the items worth the most points. I hadn't even known what those were, but now that I do know, I want to play again. The second time, I notice that there are people stuffed into lockers along one wall of the room, and some of them are worth points. The animation for the game is pretty good, and rather charming.

Now it's time for the afternoon class. I'm skeptical about this one, because the subject seems like total hocus-pocus. I'm not even sure what it is, actually. The professor tells us to take out our textbooks, and the whole class groans. We remember this book from yesterday. The title is completely nonsensical, and by now I'm pretty sure this class will be full of New-Agey crap that doesn't have any business being taught in a university. Good thing I'm sitting in the back.

During class, I notice that the girl sitting on my left is resting her head on my leg and dozing. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, because it's almost like cuddling, and I'm glad she feels that comfortable around me. I'm also amused to confirm that she's just as bored as I am. She notices I've noticed, and she smiles. But it doesn't last too long, because the professor has the class break into groups for discussion and disperse to different rooms.

After discussion, there are still maybe twenty minutes left of class, but I don't feel like going back to the lecture hall. Everyone else leaves the discussion room, but I just spend a long time re-packing my backpack. I'm enjoying being lethargic, but I also hope that the professor doesn't take attendance at the end of class, so I don't get caught.

Later, I'm startled by a student coming into the room. But he's just there to move the front table back to where it was before discussion started. How responsible of him. Anyway, I guess that means class is over. Time to leave.

Seven Keys

A middle-aged man hands a young boy a pistol, warning him never, ever to speak a word of what has been done with that weapon. Presumably it was used to commit a murder of some kind.

In the very next scene, the boy brings the gun to another, older man, telling him mischievously that something terrible has been done with it. When the man asks what, the boy says, "We blue'd it," and takes out another of the same kind of pistol, except this one has been painted blue. Amusedly, the man pretends to be horrified by this action. The idea is that the color blue isn't very aggressive or serious or anything, so it has no business decorating something like a gun.

The boy pretends to aim the gun behind himself, but then coincidentally a spider the size of a small dog comes running into the hallway right where he's aiming. The man's face abruptly becomes very serious. Fighting these spiders is the main purpose of this community, and he says to the boy, "You may fire." But the boy, not having seen the spider, is just confused. Instead, the man lifts his own gun, takes careful aim, and shoots the spider.

Now, I'm in the final stages of a game involving these spiders. The building I'm in has seven levels, and in order to get a good score for the game, I have to collect one key from each level. The trick is that in order to reach the next level, you have to use the key from the previous level, and in the process of using it, you have to leave it behind. So there's got to be some kind of secret passage I can use to go backwards from the end and pick up all the keys. I'm running all over the building trying to find this passage, and I have to restart a few times from a save point near the top of it. There are about five or six other people helping me out with this.

This time, I try using a sort of wooden fire escape on the outside of the building. It's very reminiscent of a treehouse, spiraling around a tree and built entirely out of two-by-fours. There's one other person following me down. On one landing, there's a dead spider, lying in a pool of its own fluids. "Watch out!" I call over my shoulder. "Spider juice!" (It's very dangerous.)

Once on the ground level, I go inside to find a lot of people in a large room. They want something from me; they're expectant that I've gotten the keys; or something. In response, I start taking off my shirts. I'm wearing seven of them, one for each level in the building. But taking them off is actually very difficult. I can't quite seem to pull the first one over my head. A thirty-ish woman, someone I know, asks me what's wrong. I reply that I don't know. I tell her that apparently my arms just feel very tired and I can't muster the force necessary to take off a T-shirt.

Don't Forget Anything

I'm packing up my bags and storing everything into boxes. I don't leave until tomorrow, but I'd like to get mostly packed by tonight. I'm half awake as this is going on, and I think I should probably wake up and write down this dream. But at the same time I need to stay asleep until I'm done packing, or else I might forget to pack something. I'm almost done, so it shouldn't take long.

A Rude Guest

I'm packing up my bags and boxes and leaving them in the front hall, for now. I've been staying at the house of a family I don't know too well, and tomorrow will be the day I leave. I look at the clock and suddenly realize that I have to leave for work. (I work evenings.) There's no time for me to move my bags out of the hallway; I'll have to leave them there. It's a pretty rude thing to do, but I hope they'll understand.

I work in an office building with lots of glass windows, where I talk with other people about something related to computers.

When I get back to the house, most of my bags are gone, and the family is back home. I manage to locate a couple of them, but there's no sign of my viola anywhere. When I ask the family where everything went, one of the daughters leads me out to the front yard. She pulls up a corner of sod in the lawn to reveal a big pit underneath, which has been stuffed full of my bags. I still don't see my viola, but the girl assures me that it's there, somewhere on the bottom of the pile. I contemplate this for a few moments. Why'd it happen? Then I turn to the father, who's standing between me and the front door, and I apologize for having left all of my bags in the front hall. From the man's reply, I can tell that it really did annoy him, and he's glad I'm moving out soon. Apparently both myself and the other person who's staying here have been rather rude houseguests ever since we got here.

Sublet

I'm packing up my bags and boxes at my housemate "Charlie"'s apartment. My sublet is over, and it's time to go back home. I live in the same town, so I don't have far to go, but it will still be a logistical nightmare getting all of these boxes across town. Mom's agreed to pick me up with a car, though, so for now I only need to worry about getting everything outside.

Now, I have a lot of cardboard boxes, but I'm hoping that I won't need to use all of them. Even if I don't fill all of them, I'll still feel like I own way too much stuff. But every time I think I'm done packing, I look around the room to discover that there's something I've forgotten to pack. Once, Charlie takes out a couple bottles from his cupboard and offers one each to his roommate "Sam" and myself. They're leftover vodka, not terrible but not particularly good, and he's trying to get rid of them. I accept, curious but unsure if I'll ever actually use it.

I carry down my viola first, leaving it on the sidewalk near the front doorstep. Obviously I'm worried that someone will steal it, but given that this whole thing is already such a hassle, I think I just have to take the risk. When I go back upstairs, Charlie offers to help carry down some boxes and suitcases. As he's picking them up, I discover some more loose items on the floor, and I quickly toss them through a gap in the suitcases Charlie's chosen. He looks at me funny, but he doesn't say anything. Anyway, I grab some suitcases of my own, and we head downstairs. Someone's been doing some deep cleaning in the apartment, so some of the floors are damp.

My vision is blocked by the things I'm carrying, and on the ground floor I bump into a rolling suitcase that someone is carrying across the room. I take a quick hop to get over the suitcase and keep my balance, and miraculously I don't fall. The person--a girl--laughs and compliments me on my reflexes. Shifting around some of the boxes I'm carrying, I manage to peek through a gap to identify her as "Savannah," one of my old high school crushes. Delightedly, I say hi, and we chat for a bit on our way out the door.

Once outside, I remember my viola, and I decide I should hurry to see if it's still there. I start speedwalking down the street. Savannah thinks it's a race, and she rushes past me. Soon we're all running. I notice that I'm only carrying a couple shopping bags, while Charlie's arms are overloaded with boxes. I feel a bit bad for abusing his helpfulness so much. But there's no time to worry about that now. We run around a few street corners and past an empty lot piled high with dirt (at which point I cut a corner and pass Savannah, woot!) before reaching the street where I left my viola. It's not there. I feel a jolt of despair and anger before turning around to see that it's been moved to the top of a short staircase across the street. My mom left a note on the case. She says something about a whistle and warns me to be more careful about my viola. I still don't see how I could have done it any more safely, though, unless maybe by bringing out my viola last, rather than first. Hmmm. I guess that would've been smarter.

Professional Violinist

The results of my friend's audition are not what I had hoped. He was beaten out by an older, long-haired man; a violinist. But today when I come to the meeting, the group leader tells me that he has a special announcement about that violinist. He won't tell me what, but he tries to get me to guess. I can't imagine what it would be; the only thing I remember about the man was that at a previous meeting he played a very legato piece that just kept going and going without giving the player much of a break.

Once everyone gets there, the group leader makes the announcement. It's come to light that this violinist is actually a professional, and therefore disqualified for the competition. Hmmm. Maybe I could have guessed that if I'd realized that the legato piece was too difficult for anyone but a professional to prepare. It's confusing, though, to try and fit together all of the clues, so I give up. I wonder if the violinist feels angry about this disqualification, but no--it looks like he's just glad to be back on solid moral ground.

Leafblighter

It's time for break, so the group disperses throughout the city park to find a good place for lunch. I see a group of four of them heading over to the opposite side of the park, which seems like a good idea. I hurry after them, even though I'm a bit nervous because they're all a couple years older than I am. When I get there, they've set up a blanket on the ground to lay on, and there's a tennis match going on in the nearby courts. I wave and say "Hi!" as jovially as I can, and they're very polite about letting me join them. Only, when I try to lay down near this one guy, he grabs my shoulder, pulls me back, then sits me down in a nearby chair instead. The problem (although he never explained himself explicitly) was that I was going to block his view of the tennis match. I wonder whether the chair is his, or if he just took it from one of the nearby families who are also having lunch in the park.

Later, a bunch of us have gone inside for a while, and now people are starting to leave again. There's something on the wall, a machine about the size of a paper towel dispenser, and we're supposed to use it on the way out. One person seems very nervous about this, looking over the machine very, very carefully before using it. But there aren't any apparent problems, and before long there are just two of us left: me and one other guy. Suddenly, a green bug with a body roughly the size and shape of a leaf comes crawling out of the cracks in the machine. That must have been what the guy was worried about. "Is that Leafblighter?" I ask. The bug crawls back in the machine, and we start hearing screams from a room beyond the wall and above us, which we know is a kitchen. (Not death screams, just I'm-afraid-of-bugs screams.)

I try to continue as I was, but eventually I give up and announce, "You know what? I'm just going to finish my lunch outside." I walk over to the machine, but of course the bug is currently crawling around on it. I take my towel and swing it at the bug. It misses, but the bug does start running away, which means it's not on the machine any more. I use the machine, but then I look back at my towel to check for bug guts. I think I see a pair of antennae, but the towel's wrapped around my waist and I can't twist enough to see for sure. I take off the towel to get a closer look, and sure enough, there's an entire bug stuck to it. Suddenly, from the direction of the machine, a low, threatening voice shouts "Iba flogor!" and something heavy collides with the right side of my head.

Group Project

My group has to put together a project to present to the class. The project consists of two lessons. We have the first one more or less done, except that we still need to buy a few of the supplies, such as blue skin dye. But I'm having the hardest time getting my group to buckle down and choose what our second lesson will be. The presentation is coming up and we really ought to have decided by now.

Compliments

A spy has been caught by the bad guys. He takes out his pistol and tries to shoot one of them in the chest, but the bullets--all four of them--just flatten into metal splotches on his jacket. Obviously he's wearing a bulletproof vest. I have to wonder, though--doesn't he worry about getting shot in the head? He's wearing no protection for his face, so I guess he's banking on the spy being a bad enough shot (even from this ten-foot range) that none of the bullets will go that way.

At this point, one of the bad guys in the room delivers a one-liner, something along the lines of "You'd best start thinking of compliments, because you're not in any position to be making threats."

Fitness with Laci

Just when I think Laci's video is over, a bonus clip starts, showing her trying out a cardio fitness class. For example, one of the exercises is something like the following: Start from a standing position with your legs fairly wide apart. Then crouch into a lunge position facing your right side while bringing your right elbow across your body to touch the ground on the left side of your right foot. Then on the next beat, straighten up again. The tempo is quite fast, so I discover to my surprise that it's actually quite a difficult workout. I also discover upon closer examination of my form that I'm not quite doing the step right. Oops. Meanwhile, Laci is laughing about how exhausting the workout is, and after a few short clips showcasing different steps, the video ends on a joking note as she accidentally drops one of the weights that the class is using to work out.

3-D Go

My parents and I run into two girls about my age and their mothers. They're all new to Go so we decide to try a team game. For one of the girls, this will be her very first game, or thereabouts. One of the mothers, an Asian one, shows us the board she brought. It looks to me like it has more than 19 rows, so I try to count them. The count comes up fine, so I guess my visual estimation skills are just a bit off. Anyway, we start playing the game using colored Legos on one of those green base plates. My team is white, and the adults are playing red. The newbie girl keeps trying to play in the upper left, but it becomes clear after a few moves that Red is setting up a very strong framework in that area.

"Stop that!" I say, the next time she tries to play in that area. I feel a bad about snapping, so I try to recover by turning it into a teaching moment. I explain about frameworks. I'm not sure she entirely gets it, but she doesn't argue, or anything.

Once, she moves one of her previously placed pieces before putting down a new one. At first I assume she's just tacitly taking back her previous move, and I don't say anything, though it makes me uncomfortable. But later I wonder if she just didn't know that in Go you can't move pieces once they've been placed on the board.

At times during the course of the game, I turn back to the board to find that a more or less intricate Lego construction has appeared in the middle of it. For example, once, a rectangular green tower of about twenty (Lego) stories appears. Someone tries to take it by removing the last liberty at its base, but I point out that they should have to remove all the liberties for every story and the top, since really it's all just one big group. But then the second girl, the more experienced one, points out that that's not usually what you need to do for one-story groups. For those, you just need to take the liberties on the sides. I realize she's right.

At other times, cutesie farmhouses or tessellated color patterns appear. These are clearly the work of the newbie, and they're interfering with the game. I don't think she understands the point of Go at all. Eventually I get fed up and declare, "I give up on this game." I sweep my pieces into a bag and stalk upstairs. Maybe they'll try to continue without me, but in any case it's good riddance.

Upstairs, I dump out my pieces and try to sort them by color. It's going to take a while, because there are several biggish structures that use a lot of different colors in alternation.

At one point, I notice that I can make some cool percussion sounds with the Legos, so I do some one-man-band improv using the Legos, my voice, and any other noisemakers I can find. I think it turns out to be pretty neat. It's not exploring any new territory, musically, but it's got a pretty nice groove. The only person watching is my Mom, doing something in the kitchen, but she doesn't say anything.

[I must have woken up after just about every REM cycle last night. Not sure how I pulled that one off.]

Soiree

Some of my cousins arrive for a function my family is hosting. They brought cupcakes--chocolate and one other flavor. They ask which flavor I prefer, because somehow the arrangement of cupcakes in the baking tin will reflect the seating chart for the event. I reply, "Probably chocolate."

I've agreed to contribute to the evening's entertainment by playing a short (two page) piano solo by Gershwin. I know I haven't played piano in ages, but everything on those two pages looked sightreadable when I glanced over it a while ago. However, when Dad discovers my plan, inexplicably he freaks out. I guess he's really concerned that I'll embarrass myself in front of the relatives. It's annoying, though. In fact, Dad's been annoying me a lot lately. For instance, he's recently gotten it into his head that he should learn to play piano himself, and he expects me to sit down with him to prepare piano duets. That does not sound like fun at all.

The previous group finishes performing, and now it's my turn. I figure the crowd is busy socializing, and they won't mind if I take a minute to look at some of the tougher chords. But to my horror, I open the music and discover a third page. What I thought was the end of the music is just a thin double bar! The third page isn't unplayable, but it has a lot of fast arpeggios over several octaves which will be very, very difficult to sightread. I probably should have taken a closer look at this. I start to feel uncomfortable about the amount of time I've delayed, now; the audience is probably getting impatient.

John Green the Sponsor

I've just finished TAing for today for a two-week class for math teachers in primary education. I and the teacher for the class spend a few moments calculating in percentages how close we are to finishing the class. It's towards the end of the second week.

It's dark outside as I walk through the quadrangles on my way home. On the way, I pass someone who looks exactly like John Green! I didn't know he was in Chicago! But I pass him without getting the courage to ask for an autograph. Mere steps later I consider turning around to chase after him, but I don't.

Inside a building, I run into one of my students from a previous summer math program. We talk for a bit, but we both have to be getting somewhere, so he leads the way out of the building. The building's door is rather heavy, and I feel bad that he tries to hold it for me. The pathway outside is narrow. I follow it into a smallish quad that's packed with people. I learn that it's called "Jones Quad," and it's a popular after-hours gathering place for students. I also know that I've been this way before. A girl from my house waves at me from inside a pack of her friends. I wave back--rather saucily, to my own surprise (namely, by lifting my left hand and repeatedly bending and unbending the last two knuckles of each finger simultaneously). Someone else waves at me, but I don't recognize her, and she makes a disappointed grimace. I run into someone else from my house and we remark upon how many housemates seem to be on campus tonight, despite the fact that it's the middle of summer.

It occurs to me that the John Green I saw might just have been a very close look-alike to the famed vlogbrother. I decide that I should go find him again and look more closely. As I wander around, something weird happens with the lights and the music in the building, and I guess that must mean it's about to close down for the night. No one seems in a hurry to leave, though. When I come back a few minutes later, everyone's still there, though they leave soon thereafter.

Back outside, I walk around a street corner and see a pizza place across the street. On a screen above the building, an advertisement plays. It's this same John Green guy. He's basically sponsoring the pizza place. I guess the pizza company must have heard about the Pizza John shirt and decided to capitalize on it. I still can't decide if the guy is actually John Green, though. It seems unlikely that he would do something so commercial.

Locker Checkout

It's the Saturday after finals week, and I'm trying to do my last bit of packing before going home. I've been storing some stuff in a locker on campus, so I head over to the building to pick it up. To my dismay, the building is locked. Apparently Friday was the last day to remove your belongings from this building. I spend a few minutes mentally cursing the idiot who thought that was a good idea, but then I decide I'd better try to do something about the situation. Using cleverness, I'm able to reach the first of my two lockers, which contains a fairly new car battery. I've been switching this one in and out with my car's old battery. Only, it seems like doing the swap would be a fairly complicated operation, and I can't remember ever having done it before. Oh, well. I must have known how at some point, and it's just been so long that it's slipped my mind temporarily. It'll come back, I'm sure. I put the battery in my backpack.

Unfortunately, the second locker is definitely unreachable. I check the building's hours, and unfortunately it won't open again until long after I've left town. By that time, they'll probably have thrown out my stuff. "My stuff" includes my Tae Kwon Do uniform, so I definitely don't want this to happen. Then I suddenly notice a sign on the window proclaiming the location and hours of this department's interim office. It's open today! Until 4:00! I hurry in that direction, checking the time. It's 4:11. Just my luck. Well, maybe there will still be someone around. My mom hurries to follow me.

I enter my target building to find a stark concrete entryway with stairs going both up and down, and hallways going in a few different directions. For a moment I'm disoriented, until I remember that the interim office is in a basement room. I go down the stairs, which twist and turn a few times before depositing me in a hallway only slightly more furnished than the original one. Along the wall to my right, dozens of cardboard boxes have been haphazardly stacked. Incredulous at my good fortune, I run down the row of boxes until I find one that's been labeled with my initials: last initial first, then first. Opening the box, I find my Tae Kwon Do uniform, along with everything else that's supposed to be there. Well, that's a relief. But I should probably talk to someone before taking it, else they'll think I stole it, and I'll be in trouble when I come back next term.

I continue down the hallway into the interim meeting room, which is actually a concert hall. That's kind of funny, but unfortunately I don't see anyone in the room except a female custodian up on stage setting up the ghost light. I turn back and try searching the hall in the other direction. I manage to flag down a dark-haired woman just on her way out the door. She seems to know me from somewhere, and it turns out she's coincidentally the one who's been answering my questions over email about Study Abroad. She tells me she's not the one to talk to about locker checkout. Fortunately, she says that the right woman to talk to is still in her office; it's right back there in the direction I've been going.

Wading

It's the day after finals week, but some of us are still hanging around to hang out. A girl from my high school class invites me to visit the forest with a group of friends.

"What forest?" I ask. You'd think I'd know the forests around here by now, so I'm a bit embarrassed by my question. Oh well.

She replies with the name of the forest, which I don't recognize. I agree to come anyway, and we head out. Soon after, we enter a restaurant on the outskirts of campus. While we eat, some housemates start planning what they're going to do to earn points for a big school competition which started today. For instance, apparently this restaurant (or the hotel it's a part of) is a sponsor for the event, so you get a points multiplier for eating here. I wonder why it was decided to hold the event after the end of Autumn Quarter, when there are so few people around. Vaguely I recall that it has to do with avoiding conflict with a big Study Abroad event happening in the middle of Spring Quarter, but that still doesn't explain why they didn't decide to do it during Winter. Oh well.

We leave the restaurant. Most of the group is heading back to campus from here, but I take a different path, one that leads toward the forest. At some point, I'll have to cut across the grass. But the grass is actually flooded quite deeply with water. The water's clear, but due to refraction it's difficult for me to tell quite how deep it is. Would this be an okay place to wade across? Tentatively, I start lowering my foot into the water. But even by the time the water reaches the top of my knee-high waterproof boots, I still haven't touched bottom. I retract my foot.

My friends are calling to me from across the water, telling me to go around the way they did. Yeah, their way was probably smarter. Meanwhile a boy from the group that decided to stay on campus is trying to tell me not to wade across anywhere, because it's all too deep. But I don't listen to him, and when I try the route my other friends suggested, the water's only about a foot deep.

All three of us are in werewolf form (from Skyrim) with the silver pelt and claws of an Ancient Behemoth (from Heroes III). I splash up to them and I attempt a growl. It is rather feeble, and one of the girls giggles. I introduce myself to her, and she shakes my hand, although she points out that she thinks we've met before. "No doubt we have," I reply.

Jumping Ahead

My dad and I have been taking turns playing a 3-D platform game while one of my high school friends watches. The gameplay of this game is a lot like rock climbing. You have to move each arm or leg individually, trying not to put too much strain on any one of them for more than a split second. We're trying to get to the top of an outcrop that has a sort of half-enclosed tunnel zigzagging up its vertical face. There's this one tricky spot where you have to jump over a gap, but one of the most attractive handholds actually attaches to a section of rock that swings down on a hinge. It can really upset your balance if you're not careful. Also, in order to get enough height, you need this section of rock to stay in its upright position.

I try it for a while without much luck, then hand it over to Dad. My friend points out that we don't actually have to go up this way; there's an easier place to ascend a little bit farther along this switchback. But I'm kind of stubborn, and I'd just like to prove that it can be done this way, even if it's not what the game's designers intended. Unfortunately, it proves to be a bit too much for Dad, and he falls off the edge to his (cartoon-style) death. That means we have to start over from the beginning of the level, which is frustrating, because I really thought I would get past that section on my next try.

But Dad's bored of this level, so he jumps way ahead in the game to the last level he did on his own. That's his style: don't bother with continuity; as long as you finish all the levels eventually, you're golden. Oh, well. The level selection screen is itself a 3-D environment, and the levels are yellow dots lined up in a path laid out along the ground. He realizes that he needs to buy a new "computer," since he lost the old one when he fell. When he does, the dots change to yellow rings, rather than filled circles. Also, two new "assistants" run in from the side of the screen, get a powerup of some kind from his character, then run off again.

He selects the level he wants. A bunch of enemies start running at him from all sides, so he starts beating them up using combos. Somehow he discovers a new combo--something like "knee in the face, punch, power kick"--which sends the unfortunate recipient flying backwards for about fifty meters. He encourages me to try it, but I have trouble until I realize that I'm doing a regular kick. For a power kick you need to hold down R1 at the same time. I feel a bit overwhelmed, but it's kind of fun once you figure it out. The animation's also cool because my character looks like a Star Wars bounty hunter.

Later, we're part of a larger party in the middle of a battle, trying to help the weaker members level up. This involves passing around 5-foot playing cards from character to character, which we all hug to our sides using our arms. The cards also double as protection from enemy characters, so there's some strategy involved in how you distribute your cards. Unfortunately, I'm running low on cards right now, and a thickset, bald thug is advancing on me in a rather intimidating manner.

Frags:

• dictating to my dream diary in Spanish
• other various false-awakening-dream-journal-writing

Rehearsal Test

I'm taking a test. Only, we were given the exact same set of questions as review only days ago. In fact, right now the proctors are going through and handing back our review worksheets, because the test is to be open-note. Incredulously, I open the test and the review worksheet both to the first page. Yep, exact same questions. Am I really meant to sit here for the next half hour copying over my previous answers? I call over a proctor to ask this question. In reply, she merely points out that I got some of the review questions wrong, so it won't be exact copying. Hmph.

I decide I may as well drive home before deciding what to do. I get in my white Pathfinder and head out. Due to road closures, I have to drive straight up a steep dirt road on my way home.

Later I return to the testing room. I open the review packet again, and this time I notice that the handwriting on the answers isn't my own. In fact, it seems like the handwriting changes with every new page! The graders must have split the packets for grading and then haphazardly stapled them together again, hopelessly mixing everything together. Affronted, I call over a proctor again.

Pictures App

I'm trying out a new app for party entertainment. Basically you just click a button and it collects from the Internet a bunch of funny, cool, or otherwise interesting pictures, for the group to look at, one at a time. The word "pictures" is slightly deceptive, because actually they're three-second videos that freeze on the last frame (the picture), so they have some context. The guy that made the app is asking for donations, because he spent a lot of time on it, making sure that each set of pictures has a unifying theme and that the pictures are the best ones available.

Contest

Someone's hosting a raffle. They want it to be a really big raffle, so there are a lot of different prizes, not just a couple really expensive ones. Also, there's one particular purchase you can make that as a bonus also gets you thirty raffle tickets. It's an interesting technique, I think.

Frags:

• biking
• tumblr

Crocodile

I'm playing with a graphics editing program. I'm trying to make a realistic 3-D model of a tree. I've found some textures and random generation algorithms from various other sources, and I'm trying to see how well they can be combined. For example, the models for the fruit on the tree come from Skyrim. Now, I manage to generate a tree. But it's one of those strangler fig trees from the jungle, and the setting is just a basic North American backyard. Also, the branches sometimes have a weird orthogonal slant. I'm not sure exactly how to fix these problems, short of designing my own textures for a tree, and that would be very complicated. I also notice that there's a thin spot in the middle of the tree--not enough leaves there. I spend some time trying to make an extra branch and affix it manually. The patch looks okay from a distance, but when I enter the 3-D environment and rotate the tree by grabbing a branch and pulling it sideways, it's clear that the new branch doesn't quite connect to the rest of the tree. It's just floating in the air in the right general location.

I look over the white picket fence bordering the yard. My parents are visible through the glass doors of the next house. One house over, a big group of 9 or 10-year-old kids is having a pool party. And on the other side of the fence from the pool is a crocodile. Wait, what!? Sure enough, there's a live, fifteen-foot crocodile sort of hanging upside down off of the fence. I'm both terrified and excited by this. In any case I'm definitely going to stay up here in my tree. There's a guy crouching next to the crocodile, but I'm not worried for him. He's probably from animal control or something.

I call out to my parents. "Mom! Dad! Look, it's a crocodile!"

They open the glass door and come outside. "Oh, have they come to pick it up already?" my dad says. I guess they already knew the crocodile was here. Meanwhile, the kids at the pool party are still busy doing cannonballs from the diving board.

Suddenly, the crocodile snarls at my dad. He crouches, but he looks frantic and confused and there's nowhere to run. The crocodile lunges, and Dad trips backwards over a white plastic lawn chair, which falls between them. Then, to my horror, my mom jumps on the crocodile and tries to wrestle with it. "Shit!" I say, desperately. She should have run. I can't see exactly what's going on, because my mom's back is to me. I wonder if I should try to help, or if that would only get me killed as well. Then I see blood and bits of flesh spilling onto the patio. It must have gotten her neck. "Shit," I moan, overcome with horror at the fact that I'm watching someone die, and that someone is my mother. Somehow, I'm on the ground, and her body lands next to me. There's definitely something wrong with the shape of her neck, and there's blood all over. I wake up.

Math Seminar

I'm sitting in the audience for a math seminar. Absently, I look at the speaker for the first time in a while. It takes me a minute to realize that instead of Prof. S, the speaker is a very broad-shouldered man whom I don't know. He looks very strong, he's in shape, and he's not wearing a shirt. Huh. The man explains somewhat embarrassedly that he's advertising for a company whose logo appears on his shorts. Also, I guess he's the substitute teacher for the math seminar, and he's kind of hoping that we won't talk much about math, since he doesn't know much about it.

This is the second half-naked man I've seen in the math department today. I guess the female undergrads must be feeling pretty lucky. Anyway, after the seminar I walk onto the stage and see that the guy's not wearing shorts now, either, or underwear. He's picking up his clothes and getting ready to leave.

At some point later, I discover that I'm wearing only a T-shirt and underwear, and my shorts are around my ankles. I feel somewhat irrationally superior to the substitute speaker in that I decide to pull up my pants, instead of taking off my underwear like he must have done in the same situation. But I do recognize that I'm probably just jealous.

Math Book

One of my friends in the math department leads me into a side room where the floor is covered in dozens of packets of paper, printouts from various mathematical lectures and books. He hands me the printout of the last chapter of the book I've been working through. When I go back and add this chapter to the rest of the book, I take a moment to contemplate the book as a whole. It's in a very rough state: for example, after I add a couple of entries to the glossary at the back, I notice that some of the definitions end with commas, some with periods, and some with nothing. It will take some work to clean up, but I'm still proud of it. I think I understand a little better the essence of a math book. It's not all about the typesetting and the grammar--it's about the content, and content is what we have.

Piano Lesson

Three of us are sitting in a room, waiting. We're all musicians. A friend of ours is having a piano lesson in the next room. The two others decide to rehearse a tricky spot from the string quartet they'll be playing in the recital. I'm a bit uncomfortable with this, since I'm worried about the noise being heard in the next room. It looks like one of the older adults who's back here with us is about to come over and stop them, but then she decides it's unnecessary. I guess if she thinks it's okay, then I'd better not worry about it.

Frags:

• Playing a platform game of some kind.

Wrecking Ball

The dorm I live in is about to undergo some major remodeling. They want to add more bathrooms, so they're going to demolish and rebuild an entire wing. A friend and I are sitting with a map of the place in front of us, trying to work out where they're going to find room for all of the people who currently sleep in that wing. It's not easy. I wonder if it's wise to be reducing sleeping room at a time when this university should really be building new residence halls to house the growing undergraduate population.

I need to go to the bathroom, but the bathrooms are all in the wing that's being destroyed. Still, I haven't felt any thunderous booms from the wrecking ball hitting the building, so I decide to go over there anyway. When I look out the bathroom window, I see that the wrecking machine isn't even on right now. (You can tell because when it's on, the wrecking ball swings back and forth like a pendulum, gradually sweeping wider and wider arcs.) However, apparently there's been some work done on the inside of the building, because none of the toilets work. Notwithstanding this, I spend some time in the bathroom. At one point I wonder if all of my changes of clothes are in the wing that's soon to be destroyed. Then a guy comes running into the bathroom to tell me that I'd better hurry up because the wrecking machine's started warming up! Sure enough, when I look out the window, I see the wrecking ball swinging back and forth a little. I do hurry. But it turns out the machine is aimed at another part of the wing, where some students are currently eating lunch on the roof. As I watch through the window, all of them soon leave, all except one, who's either trolling the machine operator or just very stupid. The machine operator can't start working until this student leaves, and he's visibly annoyed.

Math Meeting

Someone in the math department is telling us that Prof. S has released the results of his annual "Favorite Teachers" survey, and as always it "just happens" that he tops the list. The announcer apparently thinks that the second-place professor (whom I've never heard of) is a better one. I decide to see if I can take a class with this other professor and form my own opinion. Anyway, it only makes sense for Prof. S to put himself at the top of his list. It's a demonstration of self-confidence, or something.

Now Prof. S himself is leading the meeting, and he's gone through a list of important characteristics for any math teacher to have. He's taken a break from talking so that the listeners can discuss these ideas among themselves. I wasn't paying the closest attention, so I look over at Prof. B's notes, which he's been typing on his laptop. It's a list of five desirable characteristics in a math teacher. Suddenly Prof. S calls on me and asks what I think of what he just said. I try to keep my voice calm and formulate an intelligent response--something about trying to work out which teachers in the department have which of these five characteristics he's just mentioned.

"Characteristics?" says he. "What characteristics?"

I read off the first two items on the list, and he interrupts me to say that those are not characteristics but "methodologies." Oops. Now it's clear I was reading from Prof. B's notes. I hope he doesn't mind too much. Thankfully, Prof. S soon changes the subject.

Frags:

• Something happens inside a convention center.

Car Theft

I'm in a car with my family. I recognize the license plate of one of the cars in front of us--it's one of our own! The car must have been stolen last time my sister took it for a spin, and now we're following the guy who stole it to see where he takes it. I hope he doesn't notice he's being followed. After a while, he pulls into a parking lot off of the highway. We lose sight of him for a bit, but when we pull into the parking lot a few moments later, we quickly spot the place where the car is parked. I jump out of our car and dash towards the thief, quickly followed by my sisters. The thief--a heavyset man with dark hair--tries to run, but we surround him and get into a fistfight. I have a tendency to wind up my punches for a second or two before throwing them. It's dicey for a few seconds, but in the end we subdue him and frog-march him into the building he had been walking towards before we intercepted him. It's a bar or a restaurant of some kind, run by an ugly, middle-aged woman. There's a police officer inside, but she doesn't want to bother with the criminal. She hands me two pairs of handcuffs, so I can take care of it myself. When somebody asks me what's going on, I proudly reply that "This man is under arrest!" I have a bit of trouble getting the cuffs around his wrists. Fortunately there's a button on the side you can press to release the cuffs and try again, and I get it on my third try. As we're leaving, I realize that the woman who runs the place is probably a car launderer of some kind, one of several in the Chicago area, and she might change locations now that she knows the police suspect her.

Churning

Spoiler for Churning:

I trade devices with a girl my age. We're supposed to do thirty iterations with each device, then pass them back. The device I'm currently working on involves moving a wooden dowel in and out of a wooden ring. I decide to count in groups of three thrusts: ONE-two-three TWO-two-three THREE-two three, etc. I realize about five counts in that this means I only need to count to ten. I decide to count to fifteen, just to impress her, but it turns out to be too much, and I wake up messily.

Game Over

While playing a game (very similar to Skyrim), I come across a cave and decide to explore it. Now, I'm not new to this game, so I'm understandably frustrated when I run into some level 2 creatures inside the cave that JUST WON'T DIE, no matter how many times I hit them with my sword. I figure there must be some special weakness these creatures have that I can exploit, so I try using my fire spell. It works! But I'm low on health, so I run back outside anyway. Some of the creatures follow me, but it turns out they're weak to sunlight as well. They remind me of fireflies, burning in the air. I go back inside the cave, where my cousins have already figured out the secret to defeating the creatures, and are nearing the main room of the dungeon.

In order to exploit this weakness for these creatures, I have to travel without any kind of light source. I feel foolish bumping into walls all the time, so I'm happy to remember that I have Night Eye! Quickly, I switch to it on my favorites menu and activate it. Soon, I'm down in the main room with the rest of the party, which consists of about a dozen of my relatives and neighbors, of various ages. There is a row of five deep, dark alcoves on the upper front wall of the room and swiveling mirrors all around the back. The floor is uneven, and it contains lots of concrete buttons for us to stand on, plus one white button we can push. Clearly, it's a puzzle room. I help the party pick up all the loot in the room, then ponder what to do.

I push the white button. A passage opens in the front wall. I'm second through the opening, after one other guy. It opens into a tall hallway with several 50-foot doors along the right side, all draped with translucent plastic tarp. The other guy seems to have run through the first one, and there are terrifying sounds coming from the room beyond--roars, growls, loud crashes, and the clang of steel. After a few seconds, a boss crashes through the doorway, scattering stone everywhere. It's forty feet tall, with a body that swivels all the way around and sharp appendages, claws, and teeth sticking out in every direction. It hurtles down the hallway away from me, but now there are more of the same kind of creature coming out of the doors from further down the hallway. Dozens of them, headed straight for me. I swear there must be some kind of boss spawner down that direction. A boss spawner!

I don't recall exactly how it ended, but next thing I know, we're back in the puzzle room from before the catastrophe. Clearly I was not supposed to push the white button. Presumably we've got to find a light source and reflect it into the correct alcove(s) on the front wall. Nobody else seems to have the patience for the experiment, though, and before long there's only one other person in the room with me, one of my older female neighbors. We exchange a few words, and then I think she leaves as well.

Loading

I'm exploring a large area of the game map with my dad. He walks straight off the edge, though, and seems to be floating in midair. I'm confused. But then the ground beneath him pops into existence, and I realize there was just a loading error in my game client. We find a series of wooden scaffold-like buildings on the side of a cliff. We split up, and I find a sign that encourages me to try "ladder jumping," which I gather means jumping across a gap in a desperate attempt to grab the ladder on the other side. The sign also explains that this ability was a controversial addition to the game, since Assassin's Creed almost has a copyright on that kind of athletic move. But the sign also explains that the addition was justified, somehow.