I had a really bad dream last night. It wasn't even funny-bad. I was at H&L's old apartment, at a party, when suddenly an airplane screamed by the window, way too close to the ground. Its engines were wailing and the whine of them kept ascending and descending, like the pilots were trying to keep the plane up but were failing. We all ran out to the porch but it was soon out of view. Then we heard a huge boom. We knew it had crashed, but we were too scared to turn on the TV for a while. Somehow the rumor got around that someone had sabotaged the plane from the inside while someone else on the ground had shot at it with a surface-to-air missile. We were all sickened and terrified and feeling deeply sad. Then I was back on the porch, sitting there with H and a couple of other people. The view from the porch was an Iraq checkpoint. As we watched, a desperate man climbed one of the guard towers, and as he almost reached the top, the guard shot him in the head and the man fell to the pavement below. I started talking about how horrible it was that things like this happen in front of us every day, and what is the world coming to? How can we continue our normal lives amidst this constant violence and death? And H cut me off and said, "Can we not talk politics, please?" Like I was being a total downer.

(OK, that bit is kind of funny.)

There was more that was gross and scary (and not involving any of my friends) but people don't really like hearing other peoples' dreams so I won't share. Plus, it disturbs me to even remember it. So I've been kind of weird all day. I blame the dream, and Daylight Savings Time, which I don't like having while it's nowhere near spring. (How can we "spring forward"? We should be "wintering over" or "frost biting" or "snowplowing through.") I have no idea where the dream came from, or why my brain cast H in the role of asshole. (So random. You could be next, reader!) My stomach must have been a little upset, so my mind blamed it on terrorism.

Our team took third place last night, not too shabby. I was responsible for two right answers (ghee and Cats). And then we decided at the last minute to go see the 12:01 showing of Superbad. The theater was a sea of baseball-hatted teen boys, with a smattering of girls and people in their 20s. We figured we were the oldest people in the theater. Before the movie started, the boys would yell at every familiar face that walked into the theater. How they can tell themselves apart is beyond me. Like with butterflies or penguins, maybe you have to be one of them to notice the subtle differences between each member of the group. Anyway, the movie was very funny. I feel like I have gotten a generous helping of cock and blowjob jokes which will stay with me a long time. Seriously though, the movie seems like this generation's Risky Business, or 16 Candles, except rated R and funnier.

I got home at 2:30, and was in bed at 3, where I tossed and turned for about an hour. I had eaten a small popcorn by myself with no water or soda -- this after the two Jack and cokes at trivia -- so I was stupidly dehydrated. I got up and drank some water and managed to sleep for a few hours. I did manage to have a disturbing dream in which I had been burdened by a large number of tiny newborn puppies. I was trying to figure out how to drown them (so easy to stuff into a sack and throw it into the river!) or otherwise get rid of them in some way that wouldn't destroy my mind with guilt. The idea of trying to raise them at home until they were old enough to adopt out seemed too impossibly time-consuming and work-heavy. If I brought them to a shelter I'd have to pay a fee for each dog they took in (this happened to me in real life about 12 years ago, with two kittens I saved from certain death and nursed back to health), and since I had, like, 17 puppies on my hands, it would cost me a lot of money. So the puppies would just have to go, secretly, and without me telling anyone I ever had them in the first place. But, through various wacky and unpleasant adventures, I was unable to get back to the puppies until they outgrew their hiding place, scrambling out and charming everyone with their antics while I tried to act surprised.

Right now I feel almost human again, though I'm about to go out to eat with friends and then go back to that same bar to play pool, and I might end up at the Elvis tribute show around midnight if I don't crash by then. Normally I'd take tonight off but I have to jump on the party train when it comes through town, you know? Sleeping will have to wait.

Last night I had a dream that I was in a relationship with Huey Lewis. He was older than he was in the 1980s, but still probably not as old as he is now. Regardless, I was thrilled to be with him, and we seemed to get along well. Today I was working on the crossword puzzle in the Advocate, and there was a Huey Lewis-related clue (answer: Huey). I do not know what the universe is trying to tell me. That it's hip to be square? I knew that already. Thanks, universe -- or should I call you "captain obvious"?

The end times are (once again) upon us: High-waisted jeans are coming back. My prediction for what's coming next: enormous bat-wing sweaters that fall below the butt. The resurgence of 80s fashion reminds me of this cool concept store, Units*, that was in my local mall. I still have some long leg tubes from them (like thigh-high sock but with no feet) but I haven't figured out how to wear them without looking like a ho.

Anyway. My dreams last night were star-studded. First, I was chosen to act in the new Pirates movie. Keira and I would be the two kick-ass female pirates, and go on pirating adventures with Johnny Depp and a rotating cast of sidekicks. I was allowed to choose my character name, so I went with "Robyn." Our costumes were awesome. After running through some action sequences (climbing! swordplay! evasion!) we met up with Johnny's new sidekick, played by Robyn Hitchcock. Robyn wanted to keep his real name, putting me in a difficult position. He was wearing a very un-piratey fluffy white feathered hat (to go along with his bird-like name). I couldn't wait to tell H and L about it.

Later, in a separate dream, I rode in a station wagon with Larry David and helped set up his book-signing table at a charity event.

*I googled the crap out of Units but only came up with a couple of blurbs. This one is from liketotally80s.com:
UNITS: A one-size-fits-all clothing store featuring knit skirts, shirts, belts and leggings in coordinating colors. The clothes were sold in UNITS boutiques located in malls throughout the United States. You could buy six different pieces of UNITS clothing and create an entire wardrobe from them. It goes without saying that UNITS did not make it out of the 80s.