01/08/2004 - 12:17 p.m. | that's a new one

My dreams have been getting more and more involved lately. Like, scary involved. More detailed than I could ever imagine. And they stretch on all night. My theory is that my brain, sick of being couped up in this house with very little to do, has started making adventures for itself. And while I don't normally recount dreams, the one I just had was so epic that I felt it needed telling, at least to give my subconscious some credit.

So, I dunno where Kyle and Spritz were anymore, but they were gone. And they were gone long enough that I didn't even question that they were gone. I was back at school, and I needed a place to live. Since newspapers would have been out of the question, I just started wandering around campus and looking for a place with a vacancy. Nothing really caught my eye (because very few places have big "Need tenant!" signs outside on their lawns) until I saw this huge, square house. It had screened porches wrapped around the whole thing, and it had been built to look as though a big white boat had crashed through the middle of it. I felt this was a good sign, it seems, because the other night (the other night in my dream, I mean) Bill and I had been discussing SimCity plans, and I said something about building my city around a big boat. Right. So, I knocked on one of the doors, and Michelle Trachtenberg answered. Yes, the actress from Harriet the Spy and "Buffy." I asked her about renting a room and she took me on a brief tour. None of her other roommates were home, but the place was nice. It was divided into four separate apartments, each fully furnished and clean, and there was one room available. So, two things were clear to me in our brief conversation: 1) We were both hopelessly in love with each other. 2) She was my cousin.

Now, we have to get something clear right here. I am not a sicko, inbreeding pervert here, all right? She was my cousin by marriage. I don't know exactly how it worked, who in her family had married who in mine or whatever, or even how I knew this exactly, but we didn't have the same blood running through us. Still, I knew it could lead to trouble, and this doesn't even include our age difference (although I have looked her up on IMDB now, and she is perfectly legal, my subconscious apparently did not know this). Anyway, for obvious reasons, I decided I would move in. My stuff would be shipped down, but since the place had pretty much everything already, no big deal.

So, in typical Nate fashion, I paced around my new place, fretting about what to do about Michelle Trachtenberg. I mean, there was no question that we liked each other (it seems), but there would be talk. At the very least there would be talk. To try and get my mind off of the problem, I decided to visit the other two people living in the house. One was a sort of nerdy Asian or possibly Mexican girl (much like the mysterious one in JLit this past semester) who, to my annoyance, had already built a SimCity around a huge boat. So much for that plan. The other was an overly serious, athletic brunette who didn't seem to like guys too much. Mmm-hmm. So, I guess in the course of talking with them, I learned that Michelle Trachtenberg really did like me (We all referred to her by her full name) and decided it was time to go confront her.

We exchanged pleasantries for a while, and then, much like a situation comedy or something (can't blame my brain for being a little bit of a hack, can we?), we had one of those should or shouldn't arguments. And then we did. Afterwards, we were both terrified and quickly fled for a while. It seems I am quite the handball player in this dream of mine because I started a game to relieve some stress. I think my brain fast-forwarded a bit because handball is boring, and then I walked over to Michelle Trachtenberg's side of the house with the idea that maybe it was all just a fluke. It was raining, incidentally, and I was very wet and nervous, but I used my newly-discovered confidence trick in the dream to get up the nerce to knock on her door. She invited me in, and we had both come to the same conclusion, that it was really just a nice accident. But yeah, it wasn't at all. Or if it was, it happened again, and this time we were more accepting of it, I think. We decided that we were supposed to be together, whatever the consequences, whatever people said. How romantic.

So, we certainly weren't prepared to spend the night together or whatever, so I went back to my part of the house, all happy and jumpy and excited. You know how love is. Maybe. And when I woke up the next day, trouble. Michelle Trachtenberg had told the other two roommates about our hooking up, and they were up in arms. Parents were on their way, and the police were already there. Because incest is a crime or whatever. Don't ask me. So, Michelle Trachtenberg and I were flipping out, yelling that we were only related by marriage and how we were both consenting or whatever. The police would have none of it. "You might not be related, but she is still a minor," they said. Tragic, no?

The police drove me up really far north to the courthouse or police station or some shit where my dad was waiting for me. He seemed to at least understand the situation for what it was, but it seems the Trachtenbergs had been less open to the idea. We were there to fill out a restraining order. Well, wait - we weren't the ones doing the restraining, but we had to sign it or something, I didn't understand it exactly. At least I didn't have to notorize it. Anyway, I was completely unwilling to sign it, but my dad said there wasn't much else we could do. He was pretty logical, though - in a few years, she would be legal, and then we could do whatever we wanted with our lives. Still, I was pretty depressed, and I guess Dad knew it because we sat out on the curb in front of the polic station and drank gin from the bottle or something. Actually, even in my state of depression, not a big drinker, so I just had a little bit, leaving the rest to my dad. Super idea.

After he had finished the bottle, Dad said he'd drive me back to school. I didn't think it was a very good idea, but he said he had a PT Cruiser he had rented anyway (a red one, of all the afronts to God), so it was no big deal. We drive for a while until we end up in this small town, around Somonauk size, I guess. The car is out of gas, so we just leave it in the middle of the road and start walking. I assume the explosion I heard later was it being smashed by a semi or something. Then again, maybe not. We end up in front of this little podunk bar in the town. Someone left their big white Dodge Ram running in front of it (incidentally, it was summer in the dream). Dad said, "They won't mind" and hopped in, intending on flipping it around to head in our direction. In the process, he smashes into some little car parked nearby. While he stands there pondering what to do, I go into the bar.

Pretty much a hick bar by all accounts, meaning I got quite a few stares as I came in. Some country song was playing, except it kept talking about a "decanter," and I'm not even sure what that is. The bartender notices me and puts this huge, half-ful jug of Skoal vodka on the counter in front of me. The bottle had sort of a weird angle to it (the better to pour directly down your throat, I guess). He asked me if I wanted anything, and I asked if I could use the phone to call Michelle Trachtenberg. He said it was in use (by some big biker guy screaming about "the delivery", I noted). My dad burst in sort of frantically and said we had to leave. Now. He was carrying a bunch of bundles with him, too. I was more than a little nervous about what he had been up to, as well as the tent he was carrying, which I hoped was not my new living arrangement, so I took a look around instead. Because of my newfound interest in crappy bar t-shirts, I took a closer look at the one behind the counter. It was bright yellow and said something about the annual fork race. I didn't entirely understand, but it was good enough for me. Unfortunately, I had no money, and when the bartender noticed, he kicked me out.

My dad had left a while ago, and it was already getting light out, so I figured I needed to catch up with him. Somehow I knew he was on foot. I walked and walked for a long time, out of the turn and through the cornfields, occasionally stumbling on a gas station or general store along the way. They were all so detailed in their decorations, all that pseudo old time stuff that places like Friday's love. Old blue VW Beatles with a red stripe down the middle. A huge tin pig. Wagon wheels. Too much to list really. As I was walking by one of these places, I passed one of those big red metal phone booths, and the phone was ringing. I picked it up, and no one seemed to be on the other line at first (the phone was painted like the American flag). Then someone said, "Left of reason" and hung up. Yeah.

By about noon, I finally caught up to my dad in the cornfields. Between the sunstroke and the 3/4 of a bottle of gin had had, he was pretty fucked up. Actually, I'm not entirely sure it was my dad anymore, but we'll hope so. Especially when he told me we had to take off our pants to avoid dehydration. Finally, he just tumbled over in a ditch and smacked me in the face with the tent, sending my contacts flying out. While he lay in a heap, I started searching for them, but they're pretty hard to find when you can't see very well, I guess. Eventually, he came to his senses and got frantic again, trying to gather up all of his stuff. He helped me start looking for my contacts, but there were four of them, and they were really dried out, so it was gonna suck later. Plus, he was all shaky and had trouble getting them into the little case. All in all, I think the whole thing took ten minutes.

We finally got close to campus. Dad checked his watch and said, "You've got class soon! Don't worry about me; I'll call your mother. Take your bike, though, it's over there." And there it was, leaning against one of those chain fences Kyle had racked himself on. I rode to the archaeology building (which I don't think we have... it was on the west side of campus, though... huge stone building). While I tried to find a place to park my bike, I find the stairs that led down to the basement entrance, except they were all covered in this yellowish gravel. I put my bike at the bottom, right as another guy rode his bike up and parked his next to mine and said hello. Strange, seeing as how no one says hello. He also told me to have fun in class. Curiouser and curiouser.

So, I guess it was supposed to be some archaeology class I was having, but it was nothing like that. Everybody was frantically working on these worksheets. I eventually went up front to get one. We were supposed to fill out all these different parts labeled on the human body, except that the picture they had given us was really weird and geometrical. It looked like a chubby robot. Everybody else seemed to be having reasonable success on it, but even as I paged through the handbook that was supposed to help us out, I decided it was bullshit and listened to music instead (I guess I had my headphones with me the whole time?). The professor and the kid who had said hi to me earlier (I guess he was a TA) went around grading everyone's papers and then let them go into this other room for some real world experience, except as I listened to them down the hall, they were talking about the proper way to have cookies and milk. Seeing as how this had nothing to do with archaeology, I continued to do nothing and was promptly handed more worksheets about the proper proportion of cookies in milk or with milk and blah blah blah. Lots of fractions. Class was getting close to over, so I went over to the milk and cookie room and watched as the other kids decorated their sugar cookies (shaped like, amongst other things, camels) with sprinkles and M&M's. The TA guy was talking to me, I think, but I only heard my name at the end, and gave him a confused "Huh?" Disgusted with the overall crappiness of the class, I walked back to the lecture room to wait out the rest. Finally, the bell rang and I headed out. I think the TA started to scold me in a downhearted way, like, "I thought you would have found this class interesting if you had stopped listening to the music for anything more than your name." Oh.

Once outside, I saw Kyle pull up in his Corolla (I guess he's not dead then!) and ask me if I wanted a ride. We looped around the quad (because that's how it works) and I realized that I a) didn't have a home and b) didn't have class 'til 1, so I had him drop me off in a random location. I ended up at Lisa's apartment, I think, and went into to talk to her from a while. She had class, she said, vaguely annoyed, but I could hang out for a while if I wanted to. Ignoring the subtext, I said I would indeed and started playing some terrible, terrible DOS game on the laptop she had on her couch. She was in a new place, by the way, with only a couch and a TV. Everything else was pretty bare. Except the computer in the bathroom. Dale came down (I guess he lived upstairs) and started talking about how good he was at the game I was playing and frisbee and whatever else. I didn't pay too much attention. He was followed by Ducky, Will, Jared Bramer from Serena High, and you know Vince from "Recess?" Yeah, a live action version of him. We sat around, playing games and talking about bullshit, which made me feel a little better about the Michelle Trachtenberg incident (which had been on my mind throughout). They were impressed that I was getting with an actress. Someone decided we should play Mortal Kombat, which is a shitty, shitty game that no one should ever play. I got Will's lousy controller that you could only program to play for you. I had no idea how to use it, and it kept resetting itself, so I had Vince go into the bathroom and figure out how to use it. He started writing instructions on Lisa's door, which I thought would sort of piss her off, but everyone was yelling at me to just hurry up and play, so I kind of ignored it. The game was completely lame, and we decided it would be best if we just went somewhere to eat. Jared kept insisting Ruby Tuesday's, which I was not really up for but was willing to accept.

We walked outside, and we were in a huge mall parking lot. Everybody was getting into their cars when I remembered that I had parked the wagon here ages ago, and that it could fit everybody. I was just selling everyone on taking it, and they were heading towards it, when I woke up. Good luck with that one, Freud.