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Well, I had yet another weird dream last night... It started out in one-of-two places, and I can't remember which part of the dream came first. So, I'll try as hard as I can to make it make some semblance of sense.
When it started, it was my first day of track practice at the UofC. I was trying to do the high jump, and just couldn't clear it. The track coach (who must've been invisible) sent me to the campus doctor's to see what was wrong. I walked across campus (which was all dug up for some reason or another) into the doctor's office, and there were a lot of people around in scrubs. I walked up to the desk and told the secretary-person that I had no idea how to get an appointment, and she just sent me in to the doctor, who did some strange tests, including one where I had to stare out of the corner of my eye at my shoe for ten minutes. My eye kept watering, and I couldn't see much after about a minute and a half. I'm not sure exactly where the examination ended, but my diagnosis was that I was semi-colour blind, and I couldn't see the colour orange out of my right eye when I was looking straight up (strange, hmm?). So, then I remember being in the grocery store with my mom, trying to explain it to her, and sitting on the floor looking straight up at some orange containers to demonstrate my point. She told me we were going to London to see some play that my old high school principal had recommended. Next thing I knew, my mom, dad, and I were walking around what must have been London, even though it looked vaguely like a dark and rainy Pittsburgh. We found the theatre, where there was an old lady in tattered clothes that insisted to us that there were only two theatres left. My mom believed her, and I spent a little while trying to explain to her that if London was anything like NYC, there were bound to be others around. We went inside, and the ceilings were insanely low. Everyone took these playbooks off the desk in front, and sat in what seemed a lot like school desks. My mom brought the version of the script my principal had said they used, but I kept looking at the old version that had been sitting on the desk. It was all in sort-of Shakespearean language, and looked really neat. The other version said things like "Hi, Bob, how's it goin'?" and started with Act 9, but that was how they performed it. So, after some strange jump (perhaps the start of another dream) I was on the balcony of a strange building, staring at a military compound across the street in the middle of what may or may not have been someplace like Iraq. I already knew everything that was going to happen, and I was getting really, really angry at this businessman that kept arguing with everything that anyone said. They were trying to stop the madman on the other side from bombing the building, but he did anyway, and they just kept arguing. I must've had this dream twice, because I remember the building collapsing on everyone because they couldn't agree, but then in the part that "actually" happened, I got fed up, ran off around the other side, and started yelling something like "Code Orange! Code Orange! The building is going to collapse on us!" (what's with orange in this dream?) In alternate-dream, I ran all the way down the steps, but the second time I just took a running leap at the bed of a truck in the parking lot, and then was quickly followed by the rest of my family, except for my sister, who couldn't make the jump, but ran out through the building safely. We got in our car to drive away (along with a ton of other people) and were talking about something. We ended up in what looked a bit like a Home Depot, and they were afraid the madman was going to bomb them, too, so they were moving their generator and their power supply out of the way. My sister's cat refused to follow her, so we had to stay there for awhile. My mom explained to me that the same "storm" had hit London, and now there was only one theatre left there, because the other one had been flooded out. Somehow, by walking back through the doctor's office at the UofC, I ended up flying through the centre of the town next to me. I caught the bottom of this giant hot air balloon with an invisible top, and it carried me way up into the air. I briefly saw that it was a Hot101 (the local pop station) balloon, and it was part of some strange publicity stunt. I couldn't control it, and the bottom was ripping like a plastic bag, and I didn't know how to work my parachute. The radio people kept talking to me, and trying to explain what to do, but eventually the balloon just came right back down.
Wow... that was long. I'd better go get ready for work.
When it started, it was my first day of track practice at the UofC. I was trying to do the high jump, and just couldn't clear it. The track coach (who must've been invisible) sent me to the campus doctor's to see what was wrong. I walked across campus (which was all dug up for some reason or another) into the doctor's office, and there were a lot of people around in scrubs. I walked up to the desk and told the secretary-person that I had no idea how to get an appointment, and she just sent me in to the doctor, who did some strange tests, including one where I had to stare out of the corner of my eye at my shoe for ten minutes. My eye kept watering, and I couldn't see much after about a minute and a half. I'm not sure exactly where the examination ended, but my diagnosis was that I was semi-colour blind, and I couldn't see the colour orange out of my right eye when I was looking straight up (strange, hmm?). So, then I remember being in the grocery store with my mom, trying to explain it to her, and sitting on the floor looking straight up at some orange containers to demonstrate my point. She told me we were going to London to see some play that my old high school principal had recommended. Next thing I knew, my mom, dad, and I were walking around what must have been London, even though it looked vaguely like a dark and rainy Pittsburgh. We found the theatre, where there was an old lady in tattered clothes that insisted to us that there were only two theatres left. My mom believed her, and I spent a little while trying to explain to her that if London was anything like NYC, there were bound to be others around. We went inside, and the ceilings were insanely low. Everyone took these playbooks off the desk in front, and sat in what seemed a lot like school desks. My mom brought the version of the script my principal had said they used, but I kept looking at the old version that had been sitting on the desk. It was all in sort-of Shakespearean language, and looked really neat. The other version said things like "Hi, Bob, how's it goin'?" and started with Act 9, but that was how they performed it. So, after some strange jump (perhaps the start of another dream) I was on the balcony of a strange building, staring at a military compound across the street in the middle of what may or may not have been someplace like Iraq. I already knew everything that was going to happen, and I was getting really, really angry at this businessman that kept arguing with everything that anyone said. They were trying to stop the madman on the other side from bombing the building, but he did anyway, and they just kept arguing. I must've had this dream twice, because I remember the building collapsing on everyone because they couldn't agree, but then in the part that "actually" happened, I got fed up, ran off around the other side, and started yelling something like "Code Orange! Code Orange! The building is going to collapse on us!" (what's with orange in this dream?) In alternate-dream, I ran all the way down the steps, but the second time I just took a running leap at the bed of a truck in the parking lot, and then was quickly followed by the rest of my family, except for my sister, who couldn't make the jump, but ran out through the building safely. We got in our car to drive away (along with a ton of other people) and were talking about something. We ended up in what looked a bit like a Home Depot, and they were afraid the madman was going to bomb them, too, so they were moving their generator and their power supply out of the way. My sister's cat refused to follow her, so we had to stay there for awhile. My mom explained to me that the same "storm" had hit London, and now there was only one theatre left there, because the other one had been flooded out. Somehow, by walking back through the doctor's office at the UofC, I ended up flying through the centre of the town next to me. I caught the bottom of this giant hot air balloon with an invisible top, and it carried me way up into the air. I briefly saw that it was a Hot101 (the local pop station) balloon, and it was part of some strange publicity stunt. I couldn't control it, and the bottom was ripping like a plastic bag, and I didn't know how to work my parachute. The radio people kept talking to me, and trying to explain what to do, but eventually the balloon just came right back down.
Wow... that was long. I'd better go get ready for work.
