Talk About Being a Dreamer

I was at someone's house. A brown-haired lady, a little annoying, terribly whiny. She kept getting huffy with people. We were having some kind of party or get-together; there were a bunch of people, all of whom I (apparently) knew. We were there for some kind of common interest, but I don't know what the interest was. I remember that the foyer area was separate from the rest of the house. When you walked in the door, you stepped up two big, white and black steps. There were thin, white wooden, short walls that formed a little room when you came in the door. It looked pretty cool.

In addition to the party, there was some kind of crime to solve. Dr. Soroyan was there, and she kept making me rewrite this test type thing she was making me take. The reasons she wanted me to write it were completely random, everything from "you're being too friendly, take more time to focus" to "That pen is not acceptable, do it again." Dr. Brennan was there and we joked about Dr. Sororyan. In the end, Dr. Brennan and I discovered the murderer and Dr. Soroyan had to accept me, bad pen and all.

Then I was driving down he road with a man to go get something for our friends. A can of blue frosting, I think, so the rude hostess lady could finish writing a message she was writing on her van as a way to say "hi" to all her visitors. As we were driving down the road, we were sort of flirting with each other. Then we crested a hill, and there was the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen. It was like a painting; in fact, the sky had canvas textures. Big orange sun, these orange-red clouds impossibly perfect, big in some areas, small with sun poking through them in others, dark and light orange and a hint of red. We both gasped and I started taking pictures of the sunset. I kept taking pictures until the camera was full, telling the man I was pretty sure i could crop some of the photos into amazing pictures. He said something indicating that we ought to hook up, and I giggled.