When you sleep with a woman outside of marriage, people think you’re a bad person. When she gets pregnant without a ring on her finger, people think you’re both bad people.

Mary’s folks already didn’t like me. I wasn’t exactly wealthy and I hadn’t proposed to Mary in the four months we’d been seeing each other.

“It was an Angel!” I blurted out when her father saw her glowing, obviously pregnant with a bulge the size of Gibraltar. I looked down sheepishly. If I was going to pull this off, I had to be careful not to lay it on too thick. “An immaculate conception, while I was on a business trip to Bethlehem–I didn’t touch her, I swear. It was God!”

Her father looked at me like a jackal to a snake. I thought for a second that he might chase me around the room, jaws snapping in an effort to bite me. Instead, he looked at his wife, Mary’s mother, gullible as ever.

“Oh Mary,” she said with tears of joy and worry. “What will you name it?”

Mary’s father cared for his daughter. No matter how much he despised me, I had to give him credit for being a good guy. “Right.” He said sternly and he glared at me again, this time followed by a sigh of defeat. “You,” he pointed at me, “keep your mouth shut. I’ll tell people what happened.”

My sleep was full of fantastic CGI. Rain, water, puddles, and more all resting on a handheld device. We all had these portable devices in the shape of a perfect golden rectangle. They showed video wrapped all around the 1-inch thick screen (sides, top and bottom, front and back). It didn’t seem to have controls but nobody tried to change them. Everyone watched the same channel.

There was this young girl dancer. She suddenly became much better after disappearing for a short while. It was amazing, as if she had studied for a lifetime. Soon, she revealed that she had a way to swap her mind with that of her dying self. I eagerly prodded to find the method. It was a pen shaped chocolate with one word enscribed upon it–in gaelic it said something like “mysticism” but it also translated as “placebo”. Nevertheless, it was a necessary catalyst for the process. Somehow, I found the shop that sold these pens and soon I departed to find my dying self–because it was best to switch with a version of myself in the future, having lived a full life and now on my death bed.
I boarded a Russian boat and sailed for months. It took us through strong winds and seas filled with amazing things. Eventually, I found myself in a midieval hut where I my elderly self was dying. Now came the dissapointing part. I performed some ritual to the likes of which I cannot recall. Out from a rafter fell a copy of myself at my same age. He had the mind of my elderly self but was spry and youthful as I was. Apparently this was how it worked. I was now obsolete. There was a better me to take my place. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it was a better outcome than nothing. I was still somewhat pleased and allowed the better me to take my life while I wandered the world.

I saw an old friend on the street. He was cranked out on something vicious and didn’t seem to recognize me at first. When I stepped up to him, he produced a dull knife and hammered it into my chest. It didn’t pierce the leather jacket I was wearing so I grabbed his head and twisted him around. He still managed to prod me with the blade again and this time it cut through slightly. I let him go and started to walk away but he stabbed me in the back, just under my left arm. My jacket protected me for the most part but I could feel a little blood warming my side. He just stood there and I tried to rip the knife from his hands. The blade broke in two pieces and he started to laugh. Somehow, I was left holding the two halfs while he ran away.
It was late and dark and I was in the part of town you don’t want to be in with somebody else’s broken knife. Throwing the pieces in two seperate places, I climbed up onto a roof to hide. A patrolman was coming with a flashlight and I didn’t want to be seen. On the roof was a little shack, which I crawled into and took a nap on a makeshift bed someone had left there. I awoke to dropletts of rain, falling from the shoddy roof of the shack and to the sound of the door starting to open. I jumped up, intending to lock the door but it was too late. The kind face of a slightly elderly man poked in from the other side. He didn’t seem to hold any ill will toward my intrusion on his shack. I let him in and apologized. He sat at a desk, which I hadn’t noticed before. He began to type on an old Remington and it produced a pleasing tack and clang. The old man explained that he was a writer. He had been a writer his whole life but only recently had he truly written. This rooftop shack was now his home, his escape from his previous life, a small salvation for a dying artist.
When he realized that I was invited to a prestigious dinner party, which took place later that night, he begged me to bring him along. He desired to interview someone at the event for an environmentalist paper he was to publish. I didn’t know the person he wanted to talk to but I said he could come along anyway.
It was an extremely expensive party, with all kinds of dancing, food, deceit and decadence. I lost track of the man from the shack and soon felt it was time to go home.

Last night my dreams were in Javascript, endless for() loops, recursively scanning deeper and deeper into the dream. I woke up because of some memory error. I think I lost track and the loops crashed.

I was walking around and it was so dark I could barely see the block ahead. There wasn’t fog, just black night. Someone was following me with sinister intent so I took evasive action. After turning a corner, I ran up the next block and backtracked around. My destination was close. Around the next bend, I banged on the glass door of an office, which had all of it’s blinds drawn shut. It was late and the office was closed but I knew the owner was inside. I had something important to tell him and he needed my help. When he answered the door, I bolted inside and explained that I had someone on my tail.
“You scared me half to death,” he wandered back to another room where he had been playing Soul Reaver, a playstation game. He had a very large monitor, which made the game look life-like. To add to the effect, all of his lights were out and he had some creepy movie playing in the living room.
I looked at him and around the place, waving my arms in exhaustion. “It looks like you scared yourself.”
He took me into a back room and showed me a huge statue. “You’re tail is after this. We have to move it but moving it would destroy it.”
Somehow, we got off topic and I started talking about new things going on in the world. “Technology is really moving forward quickly. The other day, I saw a no wheel skateboard in the window of that shop. Some sort of hover tech.”
“Really? Show me.”
I took the scientist down to the skate shop and we looked around. “It was here the other day. Let me ask someone…”
I found a store clerk but he was the opposite of helpful. He said, “It’s like I’m a little kid who likes cartoons. I haven’t seen every cartoon. Got any candy? If I were you, I’d go downstairs and join the parade. Skate battle starts at 9am sharp. You’ve got a few minutes.”
We went downstairs, which was actually a huge skate ramp. The “skate battle” looked more like a winter ball. Couples were waltzing in fancy clothes and we skated around them (having somehow aquired boards along the way).
When we exited the shop, we were suddenly high up on a balcony of some extremely tall building. The walkway wrapped around and we found that we were looking over a world class soccer game. Across the field, about as high as we were, sat a group of obvious undercover police men. We acted casual, passing a clipboard back and forth, while my cohort fiddled with a pocket PC. The clipboard didn’t have anything important on it, but the pocket PC was a remote control for a weapon of some kind.
Zooming in on the police, I could hear one of them saying, “You know, while we pass these binoculars back and forth and they pass that clipboard back and forth, it’s likely that that clipboard is just a distraction. They are probably just throwing us off the tracks of the real issue.” Then my partner bit the tip of his pocket PC, stretching out a large antennae. Giant balloons started to grow from it’s tip and they floated upward, full of hydrogen. “This is it. This marks the creation of zero point energy. We’ve done it.” It was too late. The cops couldn’t do anything about it. We had created free energy out of hydrogen balloons and misdirection.

I had to half-way wake up last night to keep from self-imploding. Someone was telling me about a plane that went down some time ago. As it fell, it spun, faster and faster. Before hitting the ground, half the crew had died from self-implosion. Just watching it, my own insides started to shrink. For a minute, the plane was falling and spinning so fast, it vanished. Someone said it was some well known physics law that I had never heard of.
Later on that night, a taxi almost ran me over. It slammed on the breaks over a block away from me, but it was going so fast downhill that it slid and twisted it’s way right next to me. I had my cell phone ready to dial 9-11 in case someone inside was hurt from the sudden stop. The driver and his guest were fine, though the passenger was quite shaken up and both of them had stomach aches.

Last night, I went to the College Inn Pub to celebrate the coming weekend with some of Lena’s coworkers. I didn’t have anything to drink but some cranberry juice. We ate chips and salsa, then I had some chicken tenders at IHOP while Lena sobered up to drive us home. By the time we got home, it was bedtime and I could still taste the food we had recently consumed.
When I awoke this morning, I felt like I had indulged in a few drinks–even though I didn’t.
I’ve read that eating within 3 hours of bedtime is not very healthy. I suspect this is the case only with monophasic schedules though. When I was on the polyphasic system, I found that eating before a nap was practical and easy, without the side effects of feeling hung-over.
The reason for the hung over feeling has to do with deep sleep slowing down digestion to almost nothing. So, if a person sleeps for 6 hours straight (as I did last night), food just sits partially digested. Not a very pleasant thing to wake up to. However, when I was only sleeping for 20-40 minutes, it didn’t have much of an impact (if any) on the digestion process.
I’ve also noticed a distinct difficulty remembering my dreams on days when I wake up with the grogginess of a late night meal.

I was working for this large software company and I had to go into the office for some reason. Outside, in the parking lot, dozens of scanner drones flew around, identifying anyone within walking distance of the building. I was scanned at least half a dozen times. When I entered the lobby, Lena was there. She needed to do something for school and I was wondering how she could get in without an ID badge. They were very strict about access. No card, no entry. I checked my wallet, hoping I could scan us both in but I couldn’t find my ID card. I opened pockets that I didn’t even know I had but it was nowhere to be found.
“Looks like we’ll have to sneak in,” I told Lena.
One other security measure for that day was that everyone who entered had to be wearing a special T-shirt. The company had just launched a new product, so everyone had a black shirt with the company logo and the name of the new software. Two girls at the front desk handed us a couple of shirts and said we should put them on outside. We started to leave but they called after us, “if you’re going to change in your car, you should take one of the couches by the main entrance. You can carry in out and haul it up the stairs to the parking lot. Just bring it back when you’re finished.” I thought about this idea of hers and realized there was no need to do what she suggested.
“We’re not taking one of your couches.” They would have none of it and we had to lose ourselves in the crowd in order to escape.
We went to my car to change and when we were finished, Lena suggested we check on our backpacks that were in her car a few blocks away. That was a good idea since earlier there was some strange guy eyeballing our stuff when she parked it there. We hopped in my car and sped out of the lot, a scanner drone chasing us and blaring sirens to identify ourselves. We went faster. It only chased us a couple of blocks. Lena checked the car and came back with the news that our bags with our laptops had been stolen. Although, she didn’t say it right out. She said, “I heard theft increases 54% after the first time.” I knew by that statement that it was gone.
Dissapointed, we went to my old work place, a bar, to have a drink. Some friendly acquaintances asked me whey they couldn’t log into my file server. They were having all kinds of issues with it. I wrote down my IP address for one of them and he asked me to also write down the IP address of Yahoo mail because he wanted to do some hacking. “I don’t know the yahoo IP addresses off the top of my head. You can look them up though.” He didn’t seem satisfied.

Dang. I do need to wake up earlier. I’m just getting started but I have to eat breakfast and get out of here. I meant to wake up at 6am (that was when my laptop got stolen and I woke myself up to feel better that it was just a dream, knowing that my laptop was right downstairs).

I ate dinner really late last night, which consisted of a bunch of flax seed soy chips with hummus and a some Thai basil seed drink (first time I’ve tried it–it was ok but not great).

I woke up shortly before the alarm today, remembering my dreams. I was back in high school, visiting. Around lunch time, this horde of people with sumo suits and party gear were waiting for the students to come out to the quad (our communal lunch field). This had happened once when I was in high school. It was an elaborate ploy to get kids to come to a lecture on Jesus. Needless to say, I was once again horrified. The man who was in charge noticed that I was glaring at him and when he came over to deliver his sales pitch, I told him off. The biggest problem I had with this group in high school (other than the fact that they held a religious sermon at a public school, which goes against my beliefs of seperation of church and state) was that they never told anyone what was going to happen at the “party” everyone was invited to. It’s a small town. If there’s a party, people will go without asking what it’s about. It’s the weekness of the uninitiated. So, as all the students came out of the class rooms and saw what waited for them, I screamed out the truth, “it’s a hoax! they just want to preach to you. This is a church promotion…” and so on.

Later on in my dream, I was riding a very small (and thin) skateboard to get to school. I had missed too many classes and I didn’t do any of my homework this week so I was worried that I would miss even more. The reason I was riding the skateboard was because my motorcycle, which I don’t have in real life, had broken down. On my way, I came across a truck that was for sale. Curious, I opened it up and crawled inside to check out the interior. It was huge. While I was inside, the owner came around and asked what I was up to. I said I just wanted to check it out and he started telling me all about everything that was wrong with it. Somehow, it still seemed cool. Probably because it had a couch inside, which still left it with a livingroom sized interior.

There was a lot more but I’ve gotta get ready to go. Maybe I need to wake up earlier so I’m not so groggy.
I noticed, when I was on the plan, that I could eat at any time–even right before bed. Now, if I eat within 3 hours of bedtime, I wake up really groggy.