<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170</id><updated>2012-02-15T23:37:39.688-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Dream Blog</title><subtitle type='html'>"No, I don't wanna feed Grandma bacon in the bathtub."</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>91</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-5880582735701119808</id><published>2008-08-13T07:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T07:57:34.515-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My friend is a trouble maker</title><content type='html'>So it has been a while since I (or any one for that matter) has posted, but last night I had a dream worth posting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my friend Ryan is kind of a trouble maker but what he did in my dream is kind of unimaginable.  He was selling fireworks to kids down by the river and was not being discriminatory about who he was selling to.  He decided it would be a good idea to sell fireworks to the stupid chick who was already covered in lighter fluid (or some flammable liquid).  The girl set of a firework in her hand and her whole body set on fire.  She immediately jumped into the river and died.  Ryan was then arrested for selling illegal fireworks and for manslaughter (even though it was the stupid girl's fault).  For some reason he couldn't get a real lawyer so I had to represent him.  I don't remember for sure but I like to think that I was wearing big fancy lawyer suspenders during the trial. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the dream played out similar to any movie you have seen where a newbie lawyer defends some street-punk kid who was unjustly accused of a crime.  There was a scene when Ryan was in prison and the prisoners revolted and Ryan saved one of the guards from being killed.  This made the judge view my client as a good-hearted individual and eventually the trial went in our favor.  Ryan was free but i think he ended up selling more fireworks to children anyway...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-5880582735701119808?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5880582735701119808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=5880582735701119808' title='34 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/5880582735701119808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/5880582735701119808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-friend-is-trouble-maker.html' title='My friend is a trouble maker'/><author><name>Backes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12436352834688329706</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>34</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-378420184772863549</id><published>2007-07-13T07:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-13T07:39:33.822-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It seemed like a good idea at the time...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Tnrn35lyWlk/RpeOJCyVclI/AAAAAAAABx8/m_kejFFhNC4/s1600-h/shark-temple.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_Tnrn35lyWlk/RpeOJCyVclI/AAAAAAAABx8/m_kejFFhNC4/s320/shark-temple.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086690590156223058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I had a dream that I was drinking somewhere and ended up driving home (which was a campground somewhere). I drove up next to a police officer, so I tried to act un-drunk around him. Then I realized I didn't have to act because I was actually sober. The cop said he would walk me back to my cabin since it was night time, and he started leading the way. We had to trek through what appeared to be a pond, but it was actually a swimming pool in the ground with lots of rocks in it. There were goldfish and other things swimming around - very similar to the Japanese gardens at Como Zoo. The water started to get deep, and the cop told me to stay close to him because he had a flashlight. Occasionally he would slam his flashlight down in the water and slap something. I asked what he was doing, and he said, "Scaring off the sharks." At this point, I realized we were actually in a zoo's shark tank and there were many sharks coming to the surface from below. They weren't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jaws&lt;/span&gt;-caliber sharks (like 20 feet long or anything), but each was 6-8 feet long, and they seemed angry. They were circling us, and I got really nervous. The cop told me that the sharks could smell my fear, and that we were better off before when I thought it was a goldfish pond. We made it to the other side and got out of the shark tank/pond safely, but I was pretty shaken. A friend came over and gave us a strange look. He said, "Why didn't you just walk around?" I gave the cop a mean look. It was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;his &lt;/span&gt;idea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-378420184772863549?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/378420184772863549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=378420184772863549' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/378420184772863549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/378420184772863549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/07/it-seemed-like-good-idea-at-time.html' title='It seemed like a good idea at the time...'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_Tnrn35lyWlk/RpeOJCyVclI/AAAAAAAABx8/m_kejFFhNC4/s72-c/shark-temple.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-7922628417425852487</id><published>2007-06-20T06:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T07:13:42.703-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Barnyard prison</title><content type='html'>A couple of dreams from last night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the first one, Rob and I were house-sitting for his parents. It wasn't their real-life house though, it was a different one. People kept trying to break in, and we ended up chasing a guy down the street who tried to steal a set of keys. Then Rob's dad came home and was angry at how messy the place was. Apparently we had decided to hold a party and never cleaned up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next dream was extra weird. There was some scary people (one was a big guy in a suit) that were poisoning people by pricking them with one of those blood-type-tester things you can do at the State Fair. You know what I'm talking about - that little finger pricker thing. Some of the needles didn't have poison though - they had something that made you brainwashed. I was running from these people in a grocery store, but they caught me. They put me in a jail type place with some other people. It was actually the attic of an old barn. The floor was very thin and rotting through, and someone told me not to go on one side of the barn or I'd fall through. I also remember that it smelled bad because farm animals were living below.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-7922628417425852487?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7922628417425852487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=7922628417425852487' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/7922628417425852487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/7922628417425852487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/06/barnyard-prison.html' title='Barnyard prison'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-3985484088907572006</id><published>2007-05-28T09:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T10:19:19.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Personal Banker</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bMDXMmbzivw/RlsOqI2J34I/AAAAAAAAAAM/IJwArwsRmyc/s1600-h/241064.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_bMDXMmbzivw/RlsOqI2J34I/AAAAAAAAAAM/IJwArwsRmyc/s320/241064.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069661922627542914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not exactly sure where the dream started but my first recollection was that I was in a store that sold video games.  For some reason I decided that I would put a large chunk of the money that I saved into the hands of a "personal banker".  My personal banker was a shady man who looked exactly like the guy who hosts the show "Cheaters".  I had to call him to come out to the store for me to buy this video game I wanted.  First we went to a paint ball store because I guess I wanted to buy some stuff there and he kept asking my questions about how my previous purchases went, but I had not bought anything.  He was just confusing me with someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point I thought it would be a good idea to get his phone number seeing as how he was holding onto $6010 for me.  I asked for his phone number and he gave it to me.  I realized that I had forgotten his name and was really embarrassed, but then he asked what mine was so I did not feel that bad.  I was glad that I didn't embarrass myself by asking him his name, but now I was really worried to learn that my personal banker didn't know my name.  At some point my personal banker (who's name I learned is Tom) changed into a completely different person.  Tom was now a tall slightly over weight sandy red haired man in his late twenties.  I questioned him about where he lived and he said that he lived in Bent Creek (which i think is a golf course) with his wife.  Then he said that his wife knew him by a different alias.  I asked him why this was, and he told me that he thought it was better that way because then he could leave his old identity at any time and just start over without anyone trying to find him again.  I told him that I was concerned about that statement because if he got up and left I would be out $6010.  I don't remember what his response was to my statement but I remember I didn't like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point I was regretting my decision of having a personal banker and I just wanted to put my money back into my TCF account.  I asked him if I could take out about $2000 to put back into my TCF account.  Tom changed his form back to the guy who hosts "Cheaters"  and now he sported an angry demeanor.  He looked away from me at the floor and said something like "yea of course you can do that but why would you want to?" in an angry tone.  I explained I just did and he insisted we just proceed to the video game store.  Now we are at the store and Tom is in his red haired form.  The store also happens to be in Tom's house in Bent Creek.  I look around at the video games and there is nothing that interests me.  I began to insist that we transfer some of my money to my other bank account.  He said that if we wanted to do that we had to do it in a TCF bank by 5:00pm.  I looked at my watch and it was 4:30pm.  Suddenly we were back into some sort of shopping mall and I knew that there was a TCF bank on the bottom floor.  We started heading towards the bank while Tom (who had changed to a form that differed from his previous two) was insisting that we don't do it and was pulling on my arm and using magical powers to try to stop me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrive at the bank and I can see that they are just starting to close up.  I approached the counter noticing that the tellers are two girls probably about 3 years younger than me looking annoyed and pissed at me for coming to the bank so late.  I tell them that I want to transfer some money (Tom is now back into the form of the guy from "Cheaters").  They say okay, but they want to see my TCF check card.  They add that it cannot be one of those "leather bound credit cards".  I look through my wallet and find three TCF cards that look similar.  One is obviously not right because the material is way to thin.  I show them the other two and they tell me that it wont work for some reason.  They say that they need a ten dollar deposit and they can't get it off the card.  I tell them that that is fine, I will just use the cash machine on the other end of the store.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time is ticking at this point because I have to get ten bucks before they bank closes.  I walk up to the cash machine and see that it is extremely different from most cash machines.  In the video screen a bizarre game of "The Legend of Zelda" is being played.  There is thick plexiglass with holes cut into it about an inch and half over the buttons that I need to press to get money.  I uncomfortably reach my fingers into the holes of the plexiglass in an attempt to get my $10.  I push my card into the machine and I keep tapping a key until a red LED display gets to my desired dollar amount.  I hit the button to get my money and pennies start spilling out of the machine.  I freak out and press my hands against the machine plugging the slot where the pennies are flowing more rapidly and violently then Niagra Falls.  This stops the machine from throwing out pennies.  I look at the machine more carefully and realized that the penny multiplier is set to 1x1.  I set it to 1x100 indicating that I want my ten dollars all in one dollar bills.  In order to get my money I had to start playing the weird game of Zelda and I also had to glitch the game out in order for it to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point everything got hazy and I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;*note: the picture above is the guy from "Cheaters"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;- Backes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-3985484088907572006?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3985484088907572006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=3985484088907572006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/3985484088907572006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/3985484088907572006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/05/personal-banker.html' title='The Personal Banker'/><author><name>Backes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12436352834688329706</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_bMDXMmbzivw/RlsOqI2J34I/AAAAAAAAAAM/IJwArwsRmyc/s72-c/241064.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-545260740680888540</id><published>2007-05-27T09:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-27T09:38:16.942-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Qeen live from Greece!</title><content type='html'>A very random and flashy dream:  I remember sitting down somewhere outside and seeing a high school teacher that I have not seen for a little less than 2 years.  He seemed like he wanted to talk to me but I was on my cell phone or something so he motioned with his arms like he would come back later but then he drove away on a golf cart and I didn't see him again.  The next thing I remember I am in a colosseum-like structure eating fried food and listening to live music.  I couldn't see very well but I am pretty sure that one of the bands was Queen.  I saw my friend Katie and we went to the top of the colosseum to go talk to someone and then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-545260740680888540?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/545260740680888540/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=545260740680888540' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/545260740680888540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/545260740680888540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/05/qeen-live-from-greece.html' title='Qeen live from Greece!'/><author><name>Backes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12436352834688329706</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-513819598988130461</id><published>2007-05-25T07:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-25T07:53:35.271-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Madison Knife Fight</title><content type='html'>I was in the city of Madison Wisconsin for whatever reason.  I think I might have been on a road trip with my family or something.   I remember looking at a lot of the buildings and thinking I had been there on Halloween.  For whatever reason my family had pulled into a parking lot and we were getting into some argument with a strange man who looks like the afro-dude who hangs out over by the Kitty Kat Klub in Dinkytown.  He had a gun and was yelling some stuff but then I convinced him to throw the gun away.  Then he had his fists all pumped like he wanted to fight me and my sister was behind me and was all like "Bring it! He can take you!"  I told her to stop pushing me or else i would loose the battle.  Then the afro-man pulled out a knife and was swinging it at me and I was like "this is totally unfair"  My sister tossed me a knife and I lunged at him but it bent backwards when it hit his leathery hobo skin.  He cut my arm and I ran away and then woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-513819598988130461?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/513819598988130461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=513819598988130461' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/513819598988130461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/513819598988130461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/05/madison-knife-fight.html' title='Madison Knife Fight'/><author><name>Backes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12436352834688329706</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-2588317043338626891</id><published>2007-05-17T06:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-17T06:58:24.782-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't ever trust girls</title><content type='html'>Last night I checked my bank accounts online before I went to bed. I fell asleep and dreamt that I was hanging out with my boss, Jill, and we were arguing about something bank related. I think it had to do with having online accounts or something. I do know that I was making a good point and discussing the possible "points of failure" in her system. The next thing I remember is that I was singing the Atmosphere song "Give Me" and Jill was impressed by my rapping. About this time, I noticed that two of my front teeth were loose and I worried that they might fall out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the next dream, I was hanging out with some friends and coworkers. Todd had a date with him, and she seemed nice. Suddenly he just turned mean for no reason. He started making fun of her and she started crying. I defended her, and then the rest of the group started to ridicule her as well. Todd said the only reason he was dating her was to get some action. That made her cry more. She said, "The only real friend I have is Kristi!" and then she stuck her tongue out at me and flipped me off. I said, "What the crap, girl!?? No wonder guys don't want to date you! Nobody likes a biatch!" She gave me a cold stare and informed the group that she was evil and would make us pay. Later, I came back to my house and she was there with a friend, digging through my kitchen. I said, "Hey, put down my food! I'm calling the cops!" They said they didn't break any laws. I said, "What about breaking and entering? Are you that stupid?!" I took out my cell phone and dialed 911 but the display said 899. The evil girl laughed an evil laugh. I realized she had changed the numbers on my cell phone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my alarm went off and I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-2588317043338626891?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2588317043338626891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=2588317043338626891' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/2588317043338626891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/2588317043338626891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/05/dont-ever-trust-girls.html' title='Don&apos;t ever trust girls'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-8602868158644709807</id><published>2007-05-15T07:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-15T07:28:25.218-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to High School</title><content type='html'>I don't remember for sure where the dream started but I was hanging out with one of my band directors from high school.  For some reason he and my other director are common characters in my dreams.  We went to go see some sort of movie and then a bunch of people, I think my sister was there, then we went to hang out at his house or something.  He had this weird swingy rope thing that I think people would ride on.  Thats about all I remember&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-8602868158644709807?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8602868158644709807/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=8602868158644709807' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/8602868158644709807'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/8602868158644709807'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/05/back-to-high-school.html' title='Back to High School'/><author><name>Backes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12436352834688329706</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-8175709776927993166</id><published>2007-05-08T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-08T09:00:37.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Massive nights</title><content type='html'>I had several dreams last night, which I can recall in vivid detail. In the first one, I was with my friend Amanda at some desolate campground, and we were eating homemade bread that we had just learned how to make. We were concerned that the bread might make us sick, but we ate it anyway. Then I lost Amanda, and couldn't find her in the trees or fields.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That dream ended, and my sister and I were driving out to some far-out area to go hiking. We had one of my high school classmates, Matt, with me. We took off "hiking" which really mean walking along a road. My sister and I ended up at my parents house. We realized we'd lost Matt. I checked my cell phone and had an angry voicemail from him. He said he'd been waiting at the car for 6 hours. Oops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That dream ended, and the next dream was sort of a mystery storyline. We were investigating some politician who owned a huge farm type place. He was all about human rights and environmentalism. We found out he had illegal immigrants working in really bad conditions. After we exposed the politician's problems, he kidnapped one of the illegal immigrants and took off. We discovered he had placed a bomb somewhere on the property, but we didn't know how to disable it. Later we had a scooby doo moment when we realized the farm had no electricity and ran entirely on solar power. For some reason, this helped us disable the bomb (which was also solar powered). Then we caught the politician and took him in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I was playing a carnival game where you throw ping pong balls in a bucket. I ended up winning a kitten. He was gray and white.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may have lost two friends in the wilderness, but I also managed to save the world and win a kitten. All in all, it was a pretty productive night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-8175709776927993166?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8175709776927993166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=8175709776927993166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/8175709776927993166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/8175709776927993166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/05/massive-nights.html' title='Massive nights'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-2994974203812561411</id><published>2007-03-29T11:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T11:05:15.922-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ugly carpet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Tnrn35lyWlk/Rgv_1ahhGDI/AAAAAAAABKQ/r5p33hQm4hI/s1600-h/green_pattern.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_Tnrn35lyWlk/Rgv_1ahhGDI/AAAAAAAABKQ/r5p33hQm4hI/s200/green_pattern.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047409100516825138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream last night that my cousin Jon bought a duplex in the cities. He was renting out the basement apartment. I looked at it, and it was kind of dumpy, but huge! The carpet was this hideous green pattern (similar to the image on the right). It was also right across the street from the U. So I told him I would move in. He said rent would be $615. I thought that seemed reasonable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then my dad was there, and he wanted to convert one of the bedrooms into two bedrooms because it was very large. We were looking around the apartment, and there were some strange doors, sort of like farmhouse cellar doors, that opened to the yard outside. We knew we needed to get some locks for those doors before I could move in. Suddenly one of the cellar doors open, and the main detectives from Law &amp;amp; Order SVU came in. They were investigating a case, and they had a tic-tac-toe board. It was a clue. I decided to leave and let them do their job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, the house owner changed from my cousin to my coworker Melissa. We were talking excitedly about how we were going to decorate the place. I was afraid she might decide to move out on me since she is married and might want to live with her husband eventually (I know that sounds crazy....).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up after I realized that I forgot to ask both Jon and Melissa if they allow cats in the rental unit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-2994974203812561411?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2994974203812561411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=2994974203812561411' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/2994974203812561411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/2994974203812561411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/03/ugly-carpet.html' title='Ugly carpet'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_Tnrn35lyWlk/Rgv_1ahhGDI/AAAAAAAABKQ/r5p33hQm4hI/s72-c/green_pattern.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-1859341331646480782</id><published>2007-03-07T08:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T05:38:53.955-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn Miniature Donkeys Anyways</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So there I was - at a birthday party for a friends kid.  Only it wasn't their house and we were keeping it warm with a long torch that fits onto a propane tank.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Fast Forward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Suddenly there is a commotion on the deck.  I go out there and the neighbors mini donkey is kicking something (maybe another mini-donkeys) ass.  Rage engulfs me.  I look around for something to beat the mean mini d with - and locate a broom.  I proceed to get it off the one thats not fighting and beat it pretty good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;In an instant, I am in the kitchen at the party and I am eating cake.  All is well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;A knock pounds on the back door and its the mean mini d with another friend and this time they have the sticks and are going to beat me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I don't want to go outside because I am super scared.  Not just scared, super scared.  Suddenly Darren (previously known as the hubby and from here on out to be known as Darren) appeared and said "Oh, you can take him - he is only a mini donkey."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Then I woke up.  Once again I wondered how this could happen when I only drank 2 bud lights.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;This is a rough sketch of what the evil donkey looked like (Also note scared goat in the background):&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_c7-gc2bXObw/Re7vnRFcszI/AAAAAAAABJc/J7hSnVVe1_M/s1600-h/evild.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_c7-gc2bXObw/Re7vnRFcszI/AAAAAAAABJc/J7hSnVVe1_M/s320/evild.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039228490954355506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-1859341331646480782?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1859341331646480782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=1859341331646480782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/1859341331646480782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/1859341331646480782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/03/damn-miniature-donkeys-anyways.html' title='Damn Miniature Donkeys Anyways'/><author><name>Stepho</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09993616555948016781</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_c7-gc2bXObw/Re7vnRFcszI/AAAAAAAABJc/J7hSnVVe1_M/s72-c/evild.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-417662374066976909</id><published>2007-03-03T21:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-03T22:00:51.618-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The weirdness continues - Eddie Vedder and corn trucks</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that Rob and I had a kegger party. The cops showed up. I don't know what happened because then I was driving and the traffic on a highway was completely stopped. Each truck was a dump-truck style truck filled with corn on the cob. The corn on the cob was already shucked (is that the right word?) and the corns were huge, so only a few corns would fit in each truck. I thought the corn looked delicious. I asked Eddie Vedder (who was there, of course) to drive me closer to the corn truck so I could take some pictures. He said he didn't want to because he was tired. But finally he agreed, and I took some awesome corn truck pics. I noticed Eddie Vedder was naked except for a pair of boxer shorts, which I thought was weird and unnecessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea why my dreams have been extra weird lately. I blame the weather.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-417662374066976909?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/417662374066976909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=417662374066976909' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/417662374066976909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/417662374066976909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/03/weirdness-continues-eddie-vedder-and.html' title='The weirdness continues - Eddie Vedder and corn trucks'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-8837176255059909688</id><published>2007-03-02T09:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T09:15:19.618-08:00</updated><title type='text'>At least I voted.</title><content type='html'>I had a dream last night that there was a presidential election going on, but I hadn't paid attention so I didn't know a single candidate. This was a weird election though and didn't make a whole lot of sense. I was in a room with about 6 random people and there were about 10 game show type buttons on stands throughout the room. Each button had a candidate's name, and that is how you voted. Only one person could push each button. And you only had 15 seconds to complete your vote. Someone would say GO and then everyone would scramble to find their chosen candidate before time ran out or before someone else got him/her. They started the voting, and everyone ran to find their button. I didn't know who anyone was, so I was just hoping to god that I didn't look like an idiot by picking the Ross Perot of this election. Then I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back to sleep and dreamt that I was walking in some place in California. Every house was huge, tropical, and luxurious with multiple swimming pools. I was supposed to be there with my dad, but his plane hadn't landed yet. I walked around and found some people that I guess knew my dad, so I went in their house and drank a beer with them. They were pretty cool, and we talked. Then I left, but the sidewalks had snow on them. I kept slipping and almost falling into the swimming pools. I decided to stop and use a restroom somewhere, but it was a disgusting campground style rest room with the toilets that are set on a big hole in the ground. There's no plumbing, and you can't flush. It was gross so I left. I saw my dad and we went into an auditorium where we were supposed to see a band play. The band was still setting up, so they told me to go out front and get some cookies. I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-8837176255059909688?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8837176255059909688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=8837176255059909688' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/8837176255059909688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/8837176255059909688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/03/at-least-i-voted.html' title='At least I voted.'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-278437985014198289</id><published>2007-03-01T07:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T07:47:09.450-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Homeless and hopeful</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that Rob and I were homeless. We found a place in a parking lot to set up a tent when some people approached us. They were making a music video for the band Evanescence. They asked if we wanted to be in. We said sure, and they filmed us walking around the parking lot. Later, I saw the finished video and they had digitally altered the background so we were staggering around in a huge colliseum. Then they removed Rob completely, and I was the star of the video. Rob didn't seem to mind, but I didn't like it. I told my mom I was going to be in a music video, and she was concerned about who was taking care of my cat now that I'm homeless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-278437985014198289?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/278437985014198289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=278437985014198289' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/278437985014198289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/278437985014198289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/03/homeless-and-hopeful.html' title='Homeless and hopeful'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-5416266532224158218</id><published>2007-02-26T08:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-26T08:19:58.167-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Always rinse the bowl</title><content type='html'>I was visiting a high school and decided to run for student body president. I had some friends take a picture of me wearing a duck mask for the campaign posters. Everyone thought it was really cool.&lt;br /&gt;Then Rob and I were playing Legos. We had all kinds of pirate-related Legos, and we built a sea-side paradise for them to live in. We called it the Pirates Playhouse. We showed it to my dad, and he was impressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was looking through my parents' freezer for some ice cream. I don't even really like ice cream, but they had about 8 different kinds. A raspberry flavored one looked delicious, so I decided to partake. Sadly, I couldn't find a bowl. The cabinet was completely empty, and no one could tell me where the bowls were. My sister dumped out a bowl of onions and scooped me out some raspberry ice cream. I was mad at her for not cleaning out the bowl first. Reluctantly, I ate my onion-y ice cream in silence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-5416266532224158218?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5416266532224158218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=5416266532224158218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/5416266532224158218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/5416266532224158218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/02/always-rinse-bowl.html' title='Always rinse the bowl'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-4881897161342203006</id><published>2007-02-23T04:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-23T05:05:57.487-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Long time reader, 1st time poster....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Hi.  I am Steph and I just recently gained the ability to post on this finely run operation.  I had a dream last night that was very strange, so I thought I would share.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;My family was all living in my parents current house.  Let me elaborate family.  It was My dad, mom, Kristi, my husband and myself.  &lt;em&gt;As if that isn't weird enough.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Anyways,  we are all moving into this new house.  It turns out the new house is my grandma's current house, only it is completely gutted in the inside.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;We have to pack and get ready, so I had all of my stuff ready to go.  Kristi and I were looking thru these boxes in our closet in our old bedroom (pink walls, red carpet) and we see all these pictures of like us with out cousin Jackie and with our cousin Lisa.  The weird thing is the pictures were in books like you get when you get your senior pictures done.   We were like 3.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;We decide to leave the pics behind and get into the new place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;I don't remember anything as far as packing up and actually moving there.  The next thing I remember I am in the gutted out living room folding clothes and my friend Stef is there.  She tells me to eat a muffin, so I do - and all of a sudden a cigarette pops out of it so I threw it on the ground.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Then all of a sudden I was looking for my husband so we could get some lunch.  He was out planting a garden.  I remember I was pissed.  Not just pissed, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;SUPER&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; pissed.  I bitched him out for planting over my tulips and in general remember alot of screaming.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;Then the alarm went off and I got up wondering why I would have such a dream after only drinking 2 bud lights.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-4881897161342203006?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4881897161342203006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=4881897161342203006' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/4881897161342203006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/4881897161342203006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/02/long-time-reader-1st-time-poster.html' title='Long time reader, 1st time poster....'/><author><name>Stepho</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09993616555948016781</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-1496295048732857480</id><published>2007-02-14T13:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:23:25.479-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I stole all John's dreams!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;I switched over to the new version of Blogger, which required me to enter my gmail account. When I did this, it moved the site admin to my account, which in turn marked all of the Backes dreams as dreams written by  me. Yikes! He made a new account for himself and is adding a note to the end of his dreams, which will hopefully remedy this and prevent our heads from exploding from the confusion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-1496295048732857480?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1496295048732857480/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=1496295048732857480' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/1496295048732857480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/1496295048732857480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/02/i-stole-all-johns-dreams.html' title='I stole all John&apos;s dreams!'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-3998971424325866271</id><published>2007-02-12T23:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T10:20:50.128-07:00</updated><title type='text'>No More Blue Cheese!</title><content type='html'>This dream took place in my current place of residence, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Yudof&lt;/span&gt; Hall.  In this dream for some reason much of the building was renovated.  The biggest change was the elevators.  One of the elevators was now the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;length&lt;/span&gt; of an entire hallway.  I thought this was interesting because I had never seen an elevator as big as this one before.  I don't think that the engineers who designed the new elevator were very good because as my friend Ryan and I were riding the elevator up to my room it stopped &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;abruptly&lt;/span&gt; and then went &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;crashing&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;downward&lt;/span&gt;.  We &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; landed back on the first floor and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;elevator&lt;/span&gt; made an elastic &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;bouncing&lt;/span&gt; motion and tilted about 30 degrees on axis in the shaft.  I was freaked out and jumped out of the elevator but my friend Ryan just started laughing and hit a button so he could ride it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stepped into the lobby where for whatever reason one of my high school band teachers was working at the front desk and giving an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;announcement&lt;/span&gt; about new changes to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Yudof&lt;/span&gt; hall.  He said that a new resident had moved in and they were deathly allergic to blue cheese.  He was holding large bags of moldy blue cheese and said that any one who had blue cheese on them or in their room had to get rid of it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;immediately&lt;/span&gt;.  He then asked &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;something&lt;/span&gt; to the affect of "Are there any other questions?".  I thought it would be funny if I asked, "What kind of cheese do you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;recommend&lt;/span&gt; then!"  Apparently this was not as clever of a response as I had thought because no one seemed to laugh except for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started walking back to my room when I stopped to talk to one of my friends.   She looked a lot different from when I had seen her last.  Her hair was now more red and had kind of a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;dreadlock&lt;/span&gt; structure.  One other change was she was now living with a very cute little girl.  She said that "The girl is my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;daughter's&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;daughter&lt;/span&gt;."  This &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;implied&lt;/span&gt; that the girl was her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;granddaughter&lt;/span&gt; I guess.  This  was quite &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;puzzling&lt;/span&gt; to me &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;especially&lt;/span&gt; because my friend is not even 21 yet.  She then informed me that she had the ability to move forward through time.  So i guess the little girl was her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;granddaughter&lt;/span&gt; from the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-3998971424325866271?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3998971424325866271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=3998971424325866271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/3998971424325866271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/3998971424325866271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/02/no-more-blue-cheese.html' title='No More Blue Cheese!'/><author><name>Backes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12436352834688329706</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-8730467444799481016</id><published>2007-02-10T11:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-05-28T10:21:56.590-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Creepy Forest Drive</title><content type='html'>Me and my family were driving down some highway in what seemed to be northern Minnesota.  I guess we were trying to go to a cabin or a resort or something....  We turned off of the highway into the forest  and started driving down a gravel path.  We drove a ways into the forest until we got to a dead end sign blocking the road.  My dad stared to back up the car and then all of a sudden a SUV pulled up behind us and stopped there.  The road was only one lane so my dad pulled off the road in order to maneuver them.  They started driving towards us but missed.  As we passed them I noticed that the passenger and driver of the SUV appeared to be scary ghost like figures.  We got all the way out of the forest and then it was day time.  We were about to get back onto the highway when the SUV pulled up next to us.  I looked at the driver and passenger again and they appeared to be an old couple.  I waved at them and they turned on blue police lights on top of their car and drove off.  At some point me and my family got split up and I called my mom to tell her to meet me at the ice cream place in some town that I was in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-8730467444799481016?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8730467444799481016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=8730467444799481016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/8730467444799481016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/8730467444799481016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/02/creepy-forest-drive.html' title='Creepy Forest Drive'/><author><name>Backes</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12436352834688329706</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-3088393554557045892</id><published>2007-02-08T11:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-08T11:24:37.190-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Kevin was a jerk</title><content type='html'>I dreamt that Rob was trying to get a job on campus. He really wanted it, and Kevin (a guy who works in HRL with me) was in charge of the hiring. Kevin is a really nice guy, so I figured I'd put in a good word for Rob.  I talked to Kevin about it, and he seemed cool. Later in the dream, Rob told me that he called Kevin, and Kevin acted like he had no idea who he was. Rob said, "I even got some Mitch Hedberg tickets!" I'm not sure what that meant, but I decided to talk to Kevin myself. I reminded him of our earlier conversation and the Mitch Hedberg tickets, but Kevin was in denial. He said, "Who is this guy!? Why is he calling me?!" I was angry. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-3088393554557045892?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3088393554557045892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=3088393554557045892' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/3088393554557045892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/3088393554557045892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/02/kevis-was-jerk.html' title='Kevin was a jerk'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116916741729947240</id><published>2007-01-18T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T16:43:37.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Airplane people from the past</title><content type='html'>I wasn't feeling well today, so I decided to take a nap on the couch. While napping, I had a great dream. I was visiting my parents' neighbors when suddenly a huge group of airplane landed in their back yard. A bunch of people got out. They looked like they were slightly different than us, genetically, sort of in an advanced caveman way. They each had a Rainbow Foods plastic bag with their stuff in it. I went up to them and tried talking to them, but they didn't understand the language. They also didn't seem to have their own language. So I smiled and tried to act friendly, but they didn't seem to get it. They were fascinated with my parents' dogs and stood at the fence watching them. I started to get scared, so I went inside and suggested that we lock up all the doors so they don't come in. Suddenly the door opened and we all got really scared until we realized it was this 6-foot-tall neighbor guy who was scared also and wanted to stay with us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we all locked ourselves inside. I started watching a Discovery Channel show about wolves, and (I don't know if this is true in real life but) the show's narrator was saying that in the wolf pack, only the alpha female is allowed to breed. All the other females can't or they get in trouble with the group. Then we heard that the airplane people had the same sort of organization structure, and I started watching them out the window to see which one was the alpha female. At this point in my dream, I woke up from my nap (but not really) and told Rob (who was sitting on the couch next to me) that I had an awesome dream that I needed to put on the dream blog. I wrote down some notes about it. Then I woke up, for real, and didn't have any notes and I hadn't said anything to Rob about the dream. Weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116916741729947240?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116916741729947240/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116916741729947240' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116916741729947240'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116916741729947240'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/01/airplane-people-from-past.html' title='Airplane people from the past'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116879907870371917</id><published>2007-01-14T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:11:05.538-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy Neighborhood Trouble</title><content type='html'>I was back in the neighbor hood that I grew up in and I was hanging out with some of my friends that may have been considered part of the bad crowd.  We were chilling and then some of my friends decided that they were going to mess with the sprinkler system in Blake Verdon's lawn.  I didn't want this to happen so I saw the main support part for the system and I sat on it so my evil friends would not find it.  After a lot of coaxing they got me to move and I new that there was trouble a foot so I got my friends Kevan, Graeme and Dave to leave with me.  We went to some restaurant some where were they had all you can eat meat.  Dave said he wanted to eat there because they had the same restaurants where he goes to school.  I wanted to get a hamburger but they did not have any cooked yet so I had to wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left and I got home and I saw on the news that some hooligan kids had blown up the Verdon's lawn.  I tried to keep my mouth shut and my parents said something like "I am glad that none of you kids did that".  I indeed do not blow up the lawn so I did not feel to bad but I did feel guilty that I did not do more to stop my evil friends who did.  The phone rang and my mom said that it was Steve Verdon and he wanted to talk to me.  Mr. Verdon said that he knew I knew who did it and asked if it was some one named Sam.  I did not know any one by the name of Sam so I said no.  Then I caved and i told him every one that i could remember who was involved.  Rob Whitman was one of the evil hooligans and so were Luke and Kyle.  Mr. Verdon said that he wished I would have told him before they blew up his lawn but he was happy that I told him who was responsible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Wow this was almost like an after school special built into a dream)....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116879907870371917?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116879907870371917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116879907870371917' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116879907870371917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116879907870371917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/01/crazy-neighborhood-trouble.html' title='Crazy Neighborhood Trouble'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116827463963759787</id><published>2007-01-08T08:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:11:18.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blob people and pizza!</title><content type='html'>So I haven't posted in a long time because of school and stuff but last night I had a dream that I can some what remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember I was watching a movie trailer for some scary horror movie where people moved to a different neighborhood and then radiation or something there was turning them into crazy blob people.  It was pretty scary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing I knew, I was on a school bus with a bunch of people I know but i don't remember who they were.  It was my job to divide amongst everyone the many pizzas that we had.  I decided that my and my sister got two pizzas for some reason that had to do with her and Tom Brokaw.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116827463963759787?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116827463963759787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116827463963759787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116827463963759787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116827463963759787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2007/01/blob-people-and-pizza.html' title='Blob people and pizza!'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116749577888190074</id><published>2006-12-30T08:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T08:22:58.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange zoo and Hilary Clinton</title><content type='html'>I was at some sort of interactive zoo where you could swim in an exhibit with eels, fish, and turtles. I was hanging out in the water for a while. When I got out, I realized I was in the wrong side of the tank - the part that was blocked off from swimmers. You could see crocodiles and sharks inside through the glass side of the tank. They were pretty close to where I had been hanging out. It kind of freaked me out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That part of the dream really isn't that unexpected or weird because I watch too many nature shows on Discovery and Animal Planet. But the next segment of the dream is where it gets interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed some commotion or possibly shenanigans around the bison exhibit. The bison had broken free of their pen and were really angry. Some of them started chasing me, and I tried to climb on top of things to get away. Then for no reason, one of the bison turned into Hilary Clinton. She was still acting like a bison though, chasing me and trying to ram me with her head. I jumped on top of a wooden box filled with hay, and Hilary came at me, screaming. She had her tongue out, flapping wildly like a dog with rabies or something, so I grabbed it and pulled as hard as I could. She pulled back and then put her tongue in her mouth and came at me again. This time she bit my hands, so I clawed at her face. Then she asked where I was from. I said North Dakota, and she replied with "Damn conservative states!!!" Another politician that I didn't recognize came up at that point, and Hilary went into a calm and normal state and started shaking his hand and smoozing. Then she left, and I thanked the mystery man in the suit for saving my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116749577888190074?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116749577888190074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116749577888190074' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116749577888190074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116749577888190074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/12/strange-zoo-and-hilary-clinton.html' title='Strange zoo and Hilary Clinton'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116671330961175960</id><published>2006-12-21T06:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:27:43.702-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Condo, facebook, and a nice dream</title><content type='html'>A couple of random dreams from last night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom moved to MN and was staying with me for a while. She brought her cat, and he fought with my cat. Then she woke me up early one morning, and Rob had stayed over. I thought she would be mad, but she didn't seem to care.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, I was at an airport or something, and I went in the men's restroom by  mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was at a hotel-like condo somewhere with Rob and my friend Aimee. I was supposed to be getting ready to go to a new job I had. I went outside for a minute, and ended up getting locked out. I saw Connie, a lady from work, and she let me back into the building. I walked by the pool, and there were some kids talking about Facebook. They said that someone with my name had been using Facebook on a lobby computer and forgot to log out. I knew I hadn't used any lobby computers, so I went upstairs and asked Aimee and Rob if they had been using my Facebook account. Rob said no, but Aimee said she might have done it as a joke. I was angry. I signed into my account, and the kids had sent me some messages. I sent a message back that said, "Two words - bad judgement."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was driving to work and calling my new boss to explain why I was late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of these dreams were as blissfully happy as the one I had the night before, where I was sitting in a hot tub taking pictures of the moon with a nice camera.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116671330961175960?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116671330961175960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116671330961175960' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116671330961175960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116671330961175960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/12/condo-facebook-and-nice-dream.html' title='Condo, facebook, and a nice dream'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116550445435354693</id><published>2006-12-07T07:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-07T07:14:14.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Rob is weird</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that Rob and I were walking, and he said we could go camping in Wisconsin. Then I woke up and was disappointed that we weren't going camping. I fell back asleep and dreamt, once again, that we were walking. But this time, we were walking through some really complicated road construction. I was trying not to fall in any big holes, and Rob kept talking about he really wanted Mariska Hargitay to help him with his math homework. (For those of you who are not in the know, she plays detective Olivia Benson on "Law &amp; Order SVU.") I told him he was weird, and then he said, "We're here!" We had arrived at Valley Fair. But it was closed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116550445435354693?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116550445435354693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116550445435354693' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116550445435354693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116550445435354693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/12/dream-rob-is-weird.html' title='Dream Rob is weird'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116501773567330525</id><published>2006-12-01T16:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-12-01T16:05:40.183-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A blog-worthy email from a former roommate</title><content type='html'>"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Hey Kristi,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I had the funniest dream this morning about you. So I was at a conference in Minneapolis, except the conference was on the university campus. Also, you lived in a really small house right by the university campus. I was going to be giving a talk at the conference, and I saw the room it was going to be in, and I didn't like it for some reason, so I put a note on the door that I was going to give the talk at your house. I didn't think that many people would come, but then like 10 or 15 people came and you only had a couch that seated two. I sort of gave my talk, but somehow the gathering just turned into this huge drinking party (for some reason all the conference attenders were our age). Anyway, I only had like one beer, but for some reason I got so drunk that I couldn't even remember stuff that had happened. Then, the next morning you told me that you had a crush on me. And then I think my alarm went off.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I thought that was so funny! Sorry if you have a crush on me Kristi, I'm married.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Casey"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116501773567330525?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116501773567330525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116501773567330525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116501773567330525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116501773567330525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/12/blog-worthy-email-from-former-roommate.html' title='A blog-worthy email from a former roommate'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116480918015484975</id><published>2006-11-29T06:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T06:48:23.810-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My friend Maynard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4365/2304/1600/386960/Maynard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4365/2304/200/427288/Maynard.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream that I was at a bar where they were doing a sort of YouTube open mic night. They had a big TV set up and you could go up and show everyone your video. I was hanging out with Maynard James Keenan, who many of you may know as the enigmatic frontman of such rock bands as Tool and A Perfect Circle. Maynard was very into YouTube and had already showcased several of his videos that night. Then something changed, and a really crappy band decided to play a song rather than show their video. Maynard went up to the stage, so I started clapping for him. Everyone else in the bar burst into spontaneous applause, and I was proud that I started it. Once on stage though, Maynard showed his true intentions - to ridicule the crappy band. He picked up a guitar and started clowning around, making loud feedback noises and tuning his guitar during the song. Then he smashed it. Everyone clapped again. At this point, Rob sent me a text message that said "Rob Whtiman for the win!" I was confused. Then my alarm clock went off and I woke up feeling sad that I never got to see Maynard's YouTube video.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116480918015484975?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116480918015484975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116480918015484975' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116480918015484975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116480918015484975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/11/my-friend-maynard.html' title='My friend Maynard'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116474351512964095</id><published>2006-11-28T11:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-28T11:51:55.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Funny hair, art, Duck Man</title><content type='html'>I had a strange fragmented dream last night that started out with Rob telling me a story about a time he had gotten a funny haircut to make his friends laugh. He had gone to his house, but he was hiding in a box that someone carried in. Several of his friends were waiting at the house for him to arrive, and then he jumped out of the box with his funny hair, and he sang "I'm gonna flunk this test!" I guess the friends had gathered there to study for a test they were having in one of their classes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing you know, I'm swimming in an outdoor pool with some seals. The seals liked me and followed me around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Rob was there again. He had a whole bunch of tattoos on his back, and I recognized one as a collage I had made once. I asked him how he got a page from my sketchbook, and he said he had stolen it. He handed me the book, and I paged through it. There were all kinds of weird art in there that I've never done, although I was impressed with it. Maybe it was just in my head, but it felt like the art had some deeper implied meaning. One page had a snowy non-human figure coming out of a snowy winter landscape, and it was saying, "Mother?" There was another of a similar figure coming out of a hazy sky and also asking "Mother?" The only other one I remember is a lightning bolt that was forming into a hand-like figure and reaching out to touch a tree. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was at a hospital talking to an Asian doctor. He was making fun of his paperboy. He called him Duck Man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116474351512964095?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116474351512964095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116474351512964095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116474351512964095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116474351512964095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/11/funny-hair-art-duck-man.html' title='Funny hair, art, Duck Man'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116405792248754853</id><published>2006-11-20T13:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-14T13:22:48.671-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird job interview</title><content type='html'>So in this dream I find myself sitting in some conference room at HRL.  I am with my friend Diddy and some one else but I don't remember who it was.  We were making a video for school where Diddy was interviewing me for a job at CVS pharmacy.  He was really bad at asking me good interview questions and I remember that it bugged me a lot.  I think someone who works at HRL saw us making this video and thought that we were weird.  At the end of the video Diddy threw a ping pong ball at my head but he was really bad at throwing so we had to tape fishing line to a separate ping pong ball and drop it on my head while Diddy pretended to throw another ping pong ball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116405792248754853?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116405792248754853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116405792248754853' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116405792248754853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116405792248754853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/11/weird-job-interview.html' title='Weird job interview'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116317399393365264</id><published>2006-11-10T07:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:11:45.924-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guitar Dream</title><content type='html'>In this dream apparently A lot of my college friends wanted to buy guitars and there was a guitar garage sale going on in my neighborhood in Eden Prairie.  I was in my neighborhood before any of my friends were so I kind of had to hang around for a while.  The first thing I did was stop buy my guitar teachers house who taught me guitar in second grade.  He and his son were tuning some really messed up bass.  The neck of the bass was about 6 inches long about the body of the guitar was about 3 or 4 feet wide.  Also, the strings on the guitar were horizontal instead of vertical.  The bottom string had some weird rubber thing on it that made it sound cool.  I left that place and then I went to some kiddy party across the street.  There were a bunch of soccer moms there.  I went in and talked to them and ate some food.  I slipped on the wooden floor because I forgot that I was wearing soccer cleats&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116317399393365264?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116317399393365264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116317399393365264' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116317399393365264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116317399393365264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/11/guitar-dream.html' title='Guitar Dream'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116317388036911935</id><published>2006-11-10T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:12:00.504-08:00</updated><title type='text'>YOU ARE ABOUT TO GET SERVED!</title><content type='html'>last night I had a wicked awesome dream.  At the beginning I was sitting on the street somewhere with my friends and we were thinking about stuff that we could do.  Two of my friends left to go to some sort of mega store downtown but me and my other friend just stayed and sat on the street.  For no apparent reason some big pormotional van pulled up and these cool people came out and they were like YOU ARE ABOUT TO GET SERVED!  Then everything was like an infomercial.  These people were selling a product where you send a text messege on your phone and then a receipt of what you text prints off on the printer next to you.  These people were really excited about this product but it seemed really dumb.  Every time some one would try out the product they would shout YOU ARE ABOUT TO GET SERVED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116317388036911935?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116317388036911935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116317388036911935' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116317388036911935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116317388036911935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/11/you-are-about-to-get-served.html' title='YOU ARE ABOUT TO GET SERVED!'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116279095108030121</id><published>2006-11-05T21:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T21:29:11.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Two dreams</title><content type='html'>I had two dreams last night. In the first one , I was sleeping in my bed when I woke up. I heard a loud noise from my livingroom. I looked out the bedroom door, and saw a werewolf. It walked right past my room , so I  broke down my window and ran out to my car. I realized that I  left Andrew and Ben (my roommates) in the house with the werewolf, but i ran to my car anyway and escaped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the second dream,  I was on a football team. In the final play of the game, my team went with a 6 wide receiver set, and i caught a 62 yard touchdown pass to win the game. I have never played a game of football in my life. As you can see, these dreams are very closely related.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116279095108030121?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116279095108030121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116279095108030121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116279095108030121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116279095108030121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/11/two-dreams.html' title='Two dreams'/><author><name>Rob</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10442016399605630324</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116273918023808269</id><published>2006-11-05T07:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T07:06:20.250-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I really didn't like this one</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I found a bowl of dirt, so I took a spoon and ate a couple bites of it. It was pretty gross. Suddenly my dead grandma was there, and she was yelling at me about something (probably for eating dirt).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116273918023808269?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116273918023808269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116273918023808269' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116273918023808269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116273918023808269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/11/i-really-didnt-like-this-one.html' title='I really didn&apos;t like this one'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116247890118813954</id><published>2006-11-02T06:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T06:48:21.200-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy hotel</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that Rob and I were staying at this weird hotel that was very, very tall and had many pools. I rode the elevator many times in this dream, and it was a pretty scary one. It dropped so fast that you'd be suspended in air and feel like you were falling. Then you'd crash to the floor when it stopped. One time, I almost lost my student ID in the crack where the elevator door opens. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We decided to leave the hotel, but we saw some people outside acting like idiots. There were some really drunk girls wearing lots of makeup and hanging out on a balcony above us. Rob thought they were really annoying, and he yelled something mean to them. One of the girls responded by throwing her drink on me. I ran up there and said, "Hey bizzie, what the deal!?! Why you spill your drink on me - I didn't say anything." She said she knows but doesn't care. Then she made some lame insult, and I came up with the most badass comeback ever (I wish I could remember it), and it left her speechless. I was proud of myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went down to the car, and we left, but there was a ton of trash in the car. I got a bag and started cleaning it all up. We stopped driving after a while because I needed to use the restroom, but the restroom we went to was very strange. The women's bathroom had all these toilets just lined up, no stall doors or dividers. It was really awkward. I became really good friends with the other girl that was in the bathroom. We even hugged before I left. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116247890118813954?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116247890118813954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116247890118813954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116247890118813954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116247890118813954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/11/crazy-hotel.html' title='Crazy hotel'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116206677230488772</id><published>2006-10-28T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-28T13:24:04.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Greatest lies ever told --- the check is in the mail!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/1600/orangetights.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/200/orangetights.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my dream last night, I was going on a trip with a bunch of friends. We were gathered outside waiting to get on a bus when I realized I couldn't go on this trip for some reason. I started saying goodbye to everyone. Rob had orange pants on that resembled tights. I lost him in the crowd, then spotted the orange tights/pants, so I flirtatiously grabbed his butt and squeezed it. Then I realized I had grabbed some girl's ass instead. She also had orange tights/pants on, and now she looked uncomfortable. I was embarrassed and explained that I thought she was Rob, and she laughed. Then I spotted him for real, and he had grown his hair out longer, dyed it blonde, and put it in little mini dreads and stuck out all over. I asked him what he did to his hair, and he said he put gel in it. It looked sort of weird, but I didn't care so I told him it looked good. Then we got into a mini argument. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rob:&lt;/strong&gt; I'm upset with you. I don't like some of the things you are saying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kristi: &lt;/strong&gt;I don't understand. What are you mad about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rob: &lt;/strong&gt;We're always doing fun and new things! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kristi:&lt;/strong&gt; I know, and it's awesome. Are you saying you don't like doing new and fun things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rob:&lt;/strong&gt; I don't know... And you still owe me money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kristi:&lt;/strong&gt; For what? I will gladly pay you back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rob:&lt;/strong&gt; For the candy I bought you. Here. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Rob pulls out a colorful invoice about candy. I owe him a total of $16.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Kristi:&lt;/strong&gt; Yeah, sure. I'll send you a check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I turned around and walked away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/1600/islandburger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/200/islandburger.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Also in this dream, I went through the Burger King drive-thru twice. Both times I ordered a cheeseburger kid's meal, but on the second time, they gave me a free burger. It was a new thing called "the island burger" and it had mushrooms on it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116206677230488772?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116206677230488772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116206677230488772' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116206677230488772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116206677230488772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/greatest-lies-ever-told-check-is-in.html' title='Greatest lies ever told --- the check is in the mail!'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116179185810553566</id><published>2006-10-25T08:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:12:33.546-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Game!</title><content type='html'>In this dream I was with Phil and some other people and we were traveling to some cabin some place up north.  I remember walking accross one of those bridges that splits apart when a boat goes under and having to jump off because this situation occured.  We were walking by some river or something and a bunch of people jumped in.  I then noticed that some little girl was playing this interesting video game.  The game involved using a calculator.  Apparently the better you got the harder the calculator was to use.  I think you had to use a TI-89 in the last level of the game.  I went to meet the developers.  When I was at their office there were some other people there testing out the game.  This mother and daughter duo were playing some part of the game where the duaghter sang and danced while the mom put a pig snout sleeve on her arm and mouthed the words that her daughter sang.  I learned that the entire game was progamed in Java.  This is abnormal because a lot of games are programed in C.  I remember I played part of the game where I physically had to climb inside this cramped elevater whre every part of my body was touching a wall.  I remember thinking that this would suck if I was  afraid of small spaces (I cant spell claustrophobic).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116179185810553566?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116179185810553566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116179185810553566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116179185810553566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116179185810553566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/new-game.html' title='New Game!'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116170133348839980</id><published>2006-10-24T07:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-24T07:48:53.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't want to get fired.com</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was about to lose my job. How did I find out? That's complicated. Apparently the facilities operator in Comstock (Hugh) got some inside scoop about them consolidating the tech departments on campus and thus eliminating my job. He told my coworker Doug, who then told me. Doug and Bob were able to keep their jobs since they are programmers. Doug took me to lunch and started advising me to look for a new job immediately since I would probably be terminated within a week. He gave me a couple websites to go to and told me about some other resources for the unemployed. He seemed to really care, and I found this touching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back to work and felt very upset, but my boss was acting like nothing was up. Todd came in, and I told him I needed to talk to him in private. We went downstairs to a locker room in Comstock and I told him that I heard from Hugh by way of Doug that I was going to get fired. I told him to keep it a secret since I didn't want to get Hugh in trouble for spilling the beans. Todd is very loud, however, and he started asking me questions about it, and a bunch of people heard. Hugh was among the people, and he glared at us and ran off. I swore at Todd for not being more careful. He replied that he knew how to fix this, and then he pulled the fire alarm. Everyone started filing out of the building while Todd laughed. Then I got mad at Todd for laughing at a time like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116170133348839980?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116170133348839980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116170133348839980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116170133348839980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116170133348839980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/i-dont-want-to-get-firedcom.html' title='I don&apos;t want to get fired.com'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116119659914635795</id><published>2006-10-18T11:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:13:10.293-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Video game store, Physics, Cabin</title><content type='html'>I was working in some sort of video game store and it was my first day.  One of my duties was to take all the beer out of the public fridge and put it into the employee's only fridge.  There was a girl there who bought a yellow dress with a negative sign on it.  I said she looked nice and she went to the register to go buy it.  Then there were 3 other girls who looked exactly the same as her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In another dream I had I was taking Physics 3 and Marvin Marshak was my professor.  I went to talk to him before a test that we were about to take.  I took the test and did very bad on it.  Marshak said that because I talked to him he would give everyone 5 points for writing their name on the test.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the third dream I had my brother and sister and I were driving up to our families cabin and It was my job to hide the BB gun's in the car where the car jack was&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116119659914635795?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116119659914635795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116119659914635795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116119659914635795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116119659914635795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/video-game-store-physics-cabin.html' title='Video game store, Physics, Cabin'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116111307789503612</id><published>2006-10-17T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T12:24:37.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>School-bus-zilla, coming this Sunday Sunday SUNDAY</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/1600/schoolbus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/200/schoolbus.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on a camping and/or road trip with my grandma, mom, and 2 other people (not sure who they were - the dream is kind of hazy). We were driving in this huge van with four rows of back seats. Then it changed, and we were in a school bus. I got out of the school bus, and my grandma was driving crazily through a really narrow dirt road in a mountainous area. She ended up tipping the bus over in a lake. I watched it happen. No one was hurt, and I was really angry at her for not being more careful. We waded into the shallow lake and pulled the school bus to shore (I guess we were really strong). We had to take the bus somewhere to be fixed before we could continue on our journey, so I got stuck staying with some guys who lived in a local house. They were really messy and kept a broken toilet in the same cabinet that they stored their food items. I suggested that they move their food to a more sanitary place, but they told me not to worry about it. The last thing I remember is that I was irritated by the fact that one of the guys bought non-scoopable kitty litter and I was supposed to change the box. I sure have been having some angry dreams lately. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116111307789503612?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116111307789503612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116111307789503612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116111307789503612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116111307789503612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/school-bus-zilla-coming-this-sunday.html' title='School-bus-zilla, coming this Sunday Sunday SUNDAY'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116101355260155585</id><published>2006-10-16T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:13:33.012-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Some friends are jerks!</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamt that some of my friends had taken my bed, computer, and many other things from my room and put them in a court yard outside.  This angered me a lot.  When I saw my friend Joe I was pretty sure that he was the one who decided to do it.  I knew that my computer was on top of my bed in the courtyard outside, but I wanted to scare him.  I asked Joe where he put my computer because it was not on my bed outside.  And he looked really nervous and told some stupid lie about he he put it in some ladies office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also had a dream that for some reason I needed to buy 2 more contact lenses and they were going to charge me about 38 bucks so I was like F THAT!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116101355260155585?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116101355260155585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116101355260155585' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116101355260155585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116101355260155585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/some-friends-are-jerks.html' title='Some friends are jerks!'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116084690963295724</id><published>2006-10-14T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-14T10:28:29.646-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slept late, lots of mini dreams</title><content type='html'>I went to a house-warming party that Rob was throwing. He had moved into a 5-6 bedroom house with 8 other people. The weird part is that it was the house right next door to my parents' house. I used to dog-sit for the family that lived there when I was growing up. I was telling people at the party that I used to live next door when I noticed my mom was in the back yard pulling weeds. I went to talk to her, and she seemed disappointed that I was drinking. I gave Rob his ID (which I had for some reason) and went to sleep in my parents' basement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next I was sitting in a coffee shop having a heart-to-heart with an old buddy of mine, Chris. He was back with his high school girlfriend, and they were having some power struggles. He was also doing a lot of drugs, and he mentioned his plan to take some meth and then go see his girlfriend in order to upset her, which in turn would cause her to discontinue some behavior that he didn't agree with. I expressed my concern about Chris taking meth and how bad and addictive it is. He said not to worry about it because he did it a few times before. I was very sad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next I was in a strange town with my friend Macy and another girl, Beth, who was (I guess) our friend from another state. I don't know this Beth character in real life, but she seemed like a pretty cool girl. We were walking to our vehicle from a bar when we ran into a girl I graduated with, Alana. She was a cop. I was excited to see her, but she wasn't intrested in catching up. She said there was discussion on the police scanner about Beth because she had been obnoxious and annoying a cop at the bar we were just at, and they wanted to check her for intoxication before she drove us all home. Stupid Beth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macy and I decided to get some food, and her boyfriend another dude were suddenly with us. I suggested a fancy, sort of upscale restaurant called Ken's (I don't think it exists in real life). We ate there and left, and later I realized that we didn't pay our bill. I went back, and our bill was still sitting on the table. It was $20 for the four of us because each of us had ordered a $5 quesadilla. That's not upscale at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Non-dream tangent&lt;/span&gt;: a guy at a party once told me that numbers never exist in dreams because dreams are powered by the side of the brain that does not handle math or logic. I disagreed at the time, and even moreso now that my quesadilla dream disproved his theory. Eat it, Kevin!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last dream I had was definitely the most upsetting. My parents have a cat, Milo, who was always my cat growing up. I cared for him since he was a wee little kitten. He is about 11 or 12 years old in real life. In my dream, Milo had died a few years ago. I was at home talking to my mom about how it seemed he died at a young age. My mom said that Milo did not die; actually she gave him to a farmer. I was terribly upset about this and even considered returning my mom's birthday gifts because I was so mad. I instantly started searching the Internet for addresses of farms so I could track Milo down and get him back. This was a waste of time because my mom had the information all along and gave it to me when I asked. It was a farm in a town called Archer - it was called Archer Farms. Yes, I realize that is the Target brand of groceries, and I'm really not making this up. I tried frantically to call the woman (Sharon)at the phone number listed, but I was having problems getting a good connection with my cell phone. When my mom realized that I was trying to get Milo back, she said "That's good because I had a sick feeling in my stomach. I'm going to the Kentucky Derby in Florida." That doesn't make any sense at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116084690963295724?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116084690963295724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116084690963295724' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116084690963295724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116084690963295724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/slept-late-lots-of-mini-dreams.html' title='Slept late, lots of mini dreams'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-116006846917276047</id><published>2006-10-05T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:13:58.939-08:00</updated><title type='text'>So my dreams are starting to come back....</title><content type='html'>So I have been having troubles with dreams lately.  I have had a couple that I deemed not worth blogging because I could not remember enough to make any sense out of them.  Here goes the first dream that I was able to remember a fair amount of in a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember being in a fraternity (I was not a member I was just visiting some friends).  The floor of the frat house that we were on looked similar to the basement floor of my house in Eden Prairie.  Outside the house was a very nice beach area and by the color of the sky I would say that the sun would be past the horizon in about 45 minutes.  There was a bunch of alcohol everywhere including a giant jug of tequila.  The jug was about twice the size of one of Todd's giant glass containers that he brews beer in.  All of a sudden my friend Nick freaked out and broke a window and yelled “that is enough! every one has to leave!”  People started clearing out and Nick knocked over the tequila jug.  My friend Adam was laughing and saying “Oh no the tequila hahhahahaha John lick it up ahhahahahaha!”   I told Adam to shut up because I thought this was making Nick more and more upset.  I was concerned about Nick and I was going to call my friend Sarah and tell her that she should talk to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I am writing this I feel that there is some more to this dream that I forgot about.  I hope my dream problems get better soon...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-116006846917276047?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/116006846917276047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=116006846917276047' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116006846917276047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/116006846917276047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/so-my-dreams-are-starting-to-come-back.html' title='So my dreams are starting to come back....'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115998864316116650</id><published>2006-10-04T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T12:09:39.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Meaning is sometimes hard to find (don't take my vacuum cleaner)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/1600/collage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/320/collage.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night's dreams:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was running through an open field with some others (I don't remember who they were, but I know that I knew them), and there were multiple tornados forming in the sky. We ran to a couple trees and grabbed onto the trunks. The tornado came and whipped us around the trees, but we made it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I was on a small plane getting ready to take off. The plane seats were set up similar to that of a bus - some people were seated while others were standing and holding onto a pole. I sat on the floor. A flight attendent came out and explained the flight procedure. I noticed that the pilot seat was empty, and I asked the flight attendent about it. She said that we had an auto plane, which flew itself. I felt a wave of panic. I asked, "But what if we run into problems and need to make an emergency landing?" The flight attendent said that if that happened, she could fly and land the plane. She said she knew how to do that. I wondered why she became a flight attendent instead of a pilot if she knows how to fly planes. We took off, and another plane almost hit us on the runway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last dream, my sister bought a crappy house and decided to have a garage sale there. She was still getting set up for the garage sale, so she had all kinds of boxes and misc. junk in her garage. She was doing some major cleaning, so I wheeled my brand new vacuum cleaner down the street to help her out. I left it sitting in the garage while I went inside to find my sister. When I came back out to the garage, I was really upset to find that someone had stolen my vacuum cleaner. At first I thought that someone had sold it in the garage sale, but my sister told me that I was wrong. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115998864316116650?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115998864316116650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115998864316116650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115998864316116650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115998864316116650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/meaning-is-sometimes-hard-to-find-dont.html' title='Meaning is sometimes hard to find (don&apos;t take my vacuum cleaner)'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115964985790304490</id><published>2006-09-30T13:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T13:57:37.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Water park with Sam Malone</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I lived in a really cool, huge apartment that was attached to the Target corporate building. This building also had some sort of amusement park behind it, so I could exit my apartment and ride many waterslides in my own back yard. I was playing around on the various, complicated waterslides and ended up losing my cell phone. This bothered me because I was going to send Rob a text asking him if he was at the water park too (for some reason I thought he was). My dad and I decided to get hot dogs from the concession stand. Then I needed to go home, but the only way to get home was by sliding down another water slide that went to the entrance to my apartment. I got to the top of the slide and the popular television actor Ted Danson was sitting there with his daughter. I excused myself and scooted by him to go down the slide, but somehow I got caught on him or pulled him down with me because Ted Danson and I slid all the way down the slide to my apartment. I apologized profusely, but he laughed and gave me a hug and then went up the slide again. That Ted Danson is a pretty cool dude. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115964985790304490?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115964985790304490/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115964985790304490' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115964985790304490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115964985790304490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/water-park-with-sam-malone.html' title='Water park with Sam Malone'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115962794421140981</id><published>2006-09-30T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-30T07:52:24.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>God, The Devil, Will Smith , Tyra Banks...</title><content type='html'>I was driving at the corner of 62 and Baker road in Eden Prairie (Over by Northwest athletic club). The clouds started to stir, and then there was the image of two elderly people in the sky, a man and a woman. The man started talking and it became obvious this was god. He had a sermon (of which I remember none). Traffic came to a halt. When the sermon was almost over people were getting antsy, and started to move their cars a little . When  It was over everyone started driving really fast to make up for lost time. I drove all the way to downtown Minneapolis. I found out that the old man was selling a book, and the god in the sky thing was his marketing campaign. He was on the Tyra Banks show. The next guest was Keifer Southerland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was hiking in the mountains by myself when i saw a small structure on the top overlooking a large field. When I got up there I saw a two men bullfighting. one man had a cape and one had a whip that was at least 30 feet long. While they were bullfighting, several other people arrived, including the devil. He was red black, had goat legs , and pretty long horns on his head. Some of the people that came with him went up to sit with me, after talking to them i knew that they were devil worshipers. We talked about music, and i told them that i had just went to a Tool concert. They thought that was cool. Then some Christians came up on the hill, and because we were on private property we could no longer swear or read the newspaper. There were couches and chairs for people to sit on, so i sat down in a nintendo chair. I started rocking the nintendo chair and tipped it over, knocking over a lamp in the process. I noticed that Kristi was there so i went over to her to give her a backrub. She was sitting next to my grandmother. I started and there was a huge knot on her back right next to her spine, she told me it was from when she got hit in the back with a stick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at an awards show on the red carpet. The Mars Volta was there , they were wearing really nerdy outfits. I went back inside where the show was going on, and they were going to present the next award. They called for Eminem and The Fresh Prince. The person with the most applause would win the award. Eminem won. I was upset. The Fresh Prince was upset that he lost. He was also wearing a nerdy outfit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115962794421140981?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115962794421140981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115962794421140981' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115962794421140981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115962794421140981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/god-devil-will-smith-tyra-banks.html' title='God, The Devil, Will Smith , Tyra Banks...'/><author><name>Rob</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10442016399605630324</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115955936448921861</id><published>2006-09-29T12:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T12:49:24.490-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wheel ! Of ! Fortune!</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamt that I was being chased. I broke down a door which lead to a bar with bleachers two rows deep all around it. I realized that there was a live taping of Wheel of Fortune at the time. Everyone on the bleachers was a woman, and they all had comically large eyebrows.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115955936448921861?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115955936448921861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115955936448921861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115955936448921861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115955936448921861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/wheel-of-fortune_29.html' title='Wheel ! Of ! Fortune!'/><author><name>Rob</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10442016399605630324</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115955930981668971</id><published>2006-09-29T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T12:51:48.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115955930981668971?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115955930981668971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115955930981668971' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115955930981668971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115955930981668971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Rob</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10442016399605630324</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115954245404785799</id><published>2006-09-29T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-29T08:07:34.070-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Paying rent to the 'rents</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that my parents bought the apartment building I live in. They were going to lower my rent by $150 a month, so I was very happy. But then they rented my apartment unit to someone else and told me I needed to get out. I was pretty angry about this, but the rest of the dream is hazy and I only remember that it ended with me waiting in line to get a sloppy joe at some sort of big conference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115954245404785799?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115954245404785799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115954245404785799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115954245404785799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115954245404785799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/paying-rent-to-rents.html' title='Paying rent to the &apos;rents'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115884564188664772</id><published>2006-09-21T06:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-21T06:34:01.976-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Favoritism in the classroom</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was taking a math class with Backes and Todd. The class was outdoors in some scenic area with lots of big rocks. The teacher had a reputation for being a hard ass, and I was a little nervous. I missed the first few days of class for some reason, and when I finally showed up, we had a quiz. Luckily I felt like I knew the material, and I whizzed through the test and handed it in. There must have been a lapse in time that I can't explain because suddenly the teacher was handing us back our graded quizzes. I glanced at my paper and noticed that I had answered all of the questions correctly...until I noticed there was a back page to the quiz that I hadn't done at all. The teacher thought it was funny and decided not to dock me any points. That pissed Todd off and he said it was only because I was a girl. Then Todd and I decided to go somewhere and get food, so we walked over to a coat rack to grab our jackets. The teacher had the same maroon Housing &amp; Res Life fleece jacket as me, and I accidentally grabbed his. He said, "Hey whoa little girl, that's MY jacket!" and I replied, "Come on, I'm sure mine will fit you!" We both laughed heartily while Todd rolled his eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115884564188664772?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115884564188664772/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115884564188664772' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115884564188664772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115884564188664772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/favoritism-in-classroom.html' title='Favoritism in the classroom'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115868589934302237</id><published>2006-09-19T10:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:14:21.512-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Guitar, LTJ, Minivan, Jimmy John's</title><content type='html'>In this dream I returned to my high school.  I was late to school so I gave my pass to the security guard at the entrance.  The guard for today was Smitty, a short stubby man with long hair and a fetish for war reenactment.  I talked to him for a while and some how we got on the subject of playing guitar.  All of a sudden he pulled an electric guitar out of no where and asked me to help him assemble it.  He took two metal bars, that looked similar to a U lock for a bicycle, and placed them at the bottom of the neck of the guitar.  these bars were where the strings attached to the base of the guitar.  I helped him assemble it and then some girl walked by and showed us her guitar.  She had a double classical guitar.  except this wasn't like a normal double guitar that has one guitar underneath the other.  This guitar had one guitar inside the other!  Smitty started putting some used steel guitar strings on her guitar but I told him that he should not do that because it was a classical guitar and you should only put nylon strings on a classical guitar.  For some reason I left and went out the front door of my high school.  I saw a guy that I knew there and he was talking with his friends about how he was going to go to the Less Than Jake concert that evening.  I was excited and asked him “Where are they playing!”  He said that they were playing some where downtown and I decided that I would go there immediately!  I jumped in some van, which was apparently mine, and my sister got in to because I had to drive her home from school.  It had snowed a lot outside and the streets had not been plowed yet.  I starting barreling through the thick snow in the minivan and all of a sudden the street became a tobaggon run!  I flew out the back of the van  and held onto a water ski rope for dear life.    my ipod flew out of my pocket and was dragging in the snow because the headphones were in my ears.  I eventually got down to the bottom of a mountain and then Kristi called me and said “You need to come pick me up!” and I was like “why are you to drunk to drive?” and she said “no I am at Jimmy John's and you need to come get your food”.  I could see the skyline of downtown from the base of the mountain and I could see the Jimmy John's from where Kristi was calling me.  I told her that I could see the restaurant and that I would come pick her up but when I looked up again I could no longer see the Jimmy John's and then i woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115868589934302237?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115868589934302237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115868589934302237' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115868589934302237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115868589934302237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/guitar-ltj-minivan-jimmy-johns.html' title='Guitar, LTJ, Minivan, Jimmy John&apos;s'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115861004663134179</id><published>2006-09-18T13:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:14:41.222-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Claw Machine</title><content type='html'>In the dream I was in some place somewhere that had one of those machines that you put money into in order to control a mechanical claw to pick up prizes.  I tend to be pretty good at these machines so I was going to show off in front of my friends.  I noteced that there was a plastic groccery bag with two ziplock bags inside the machine.  I decided that this was the prize that I would go for.  I used my mad skillz to capture the bag and claim my prize.  When i opened there groccery bag and looked at the two ziplock bags inside I noticed that each bag had about 5 chicolets in them.  I was like "wtf" i payed 1 dollar and ill i get is a few of the worst candies in the world.  I attempted the machine again and got 2 stuffed action figures that bared a resemblence to the man in the yellow hat from the Curious George books.  I turned to my friends and told them that these would be great for the 4rth of July (I enjoy blowing up action figures with fireworks).  Then my friend Jackie turned to me and said "But Tyler doesnt masterbate"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw Jackie and tyler today hoping she could allude me to what she was thinking when she said this but, I had not such luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115861004663134179?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115861004663134179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115861004663134179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115861004663134179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115861004663134179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/claw-machine.html' title='Claw Machine'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115832960575539140</id><published>2006-09-15T07:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T07:13:28.410-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heists and vomiting elephants</title><content type='html'>This is going to be a tough one to piece together, but I'll try. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dream last night was very complex with interesting plot twists. It played out like an action-packed mystery novel...except it lacked that whole cohesive plot thing. It began with me and my sister going to visit my parents in some unrecognizable location. In the dream, our parents were evil (and probably not our real parents) and plotting some kind of morally wrong caper. My sister and I knew we had to stop them. That's only as far as that storyline goes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dream takes a turn at this point. For some reason, we had given my mom a fancy looking, yet cheap, ring for Mother's Day or something. She had secretly taken the ring in and exchanged the cheap stones for expensive jewels. I found out about this and was angered, for some reason. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was walking through a haunted pet store. Someone warned me that there were ghosts in the building, but I didn't believe it until all the animals started freaking out. There were a lot of people in the pet store, and they started swapping ghost stories. I overheard someone tell Rob's story about the time he was making a frozen pizza and a ghost walked up to him in front of the oven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went outside to watch the elephants (there were elephants in this dream). They were way larger than they are in real life, and one of them freaked me out by running over. Someone told me not to worry because they are supposedly nonviolent, but I was still suspicious. I looked out over a balcony railing and saw more elephants below. One of them was throwing up, which was disgusting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something chaotic happened at this point, but I can't really figure out what it was. All I know is that the dream ended with my sister and I driving away very fast in a van with people chasing us, and I had stolen my mother's ring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115832960575539140?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115832960575539140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115832960575539140' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115832960575539140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115832960575539140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/heists-and-vomiting-elephants.html' title='Heists and vomiting elephants'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115824440770843005</id><published>2006-09-14T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:15:09.249-08:00</updated><title type='text'>AVI Systems</title><content type='html'>In this dream I went back to the company I worked for for my Junior and Senior years of of high school.  When I got to AVI a lot had changed.  There was a bunch of new, younger staff who all whore the same uniform collared shirts like best buy employees.  The cube that I used to work at got replaced by a bunch of dvd's and paintball guns.  Jared, the guy I closely worked with was there,  He seemed to be very happy which I thought was abnormal because a lot of the time he seemed tired and over worked.  There were a bunch of other younger people there who were talking to me like they knew me very well but i did not recognize them at all.  We all went outside because it was a beautiful day and I talked to Jared about the company and stuff.  I was going to ask him if he wanted to try to get a job doing IT stuff for one of the departments at the U but before I could ask him I woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115824440770843005?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115824440770843005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115824440770843005' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115824440770843005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115824440770843005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/avi-systems.html' title='AVI Systems'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115816259895238262</id><published>2006-09-13T08:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:15:24.554-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Blog</title><content type='html'>So last night I woke up after having a dream that I really wanted to blog about.  The dream involved my friend Ryan getting really drunk before a test/marching band practice.  He proceeded to make an idiot of himself by tackling poeple and stuff.  Unfortionatley I frogot most of the dream :(.  In the course of thinking about blogging the dream I fell asleep and had a dream that The Dream Blog got taken over by a bunch of stupid 14 year olds who would have conversations on the front page.  It made me really sad :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115816259895238262?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115816259895238262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115816259895238262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115816259895238262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115816259895238262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/dream-blog_13.html' title='Dream Blog'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115781987565189597</id><published>2006-09-09T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:15:35.509-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lazy Shoot out</title><content type='html'>In the dream I was a police officer who was called to a desturbance some where in a paraking garage.  When I got there there was a man standing behind a car and there was also a red Univirsity Services van there.  Then man and I proceeded to get into a shoot out, except it was a lazy shoot out.  We pretty much just took turns slowly shooting at  each other.  One of his bullets hit me in the forehead, but it was rubber so i just pulled out it.  After a while I nonchalantly walked up to him and took his mp5 that he had strapped around his shoulders and was bored and he was too so I arrested him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115781987565189597?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115781987565189597/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115781987565189597' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115781987565189597'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115781987565189597'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/lazy-shoot-out.html' title='Lazy Shoot out'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115772751641093999</id><published>2006-09-08T07:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T14:19:49.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A series of dreams with a message</title><content type='html'>First dream: I was camping with some friends in some mystery location. We were on a beach, and I had a tent all to myself, which I was happy about. The tent was large and had a screened in front porch area where I kept all of my things neatly organized. Suddenly a comedian drove up in a huge RV and almost ran over my tent. When I confronted him about it, he didn't have a very good sense of humor about the whole thing (odd for a comedian). I wondered why there was a comedian joining our camp group (and how I knew instantly that he was a comedian), but I guess my friends had hired him to perform for us that evening. He started his act, but quit early to go shave his beard (it was orange and very unruly). I decided to observe some of the local wildlife on the beach and in the shallow water. I watched hermit crabs, minnows, and even baby seals. Then I noticed that I had left my tent door open and there were all kinds of icky bugs worm-like creatures crawling around in it. I knew I had to find somewhere else to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second dream: I was living in a huge house by myself. The house had tons of doors, but several of the doors would not lock, and this bothered me. I would make my rounds attempting to lock all of the doors, but I could never get them all secured. So basically I lived there hoping no one would come in. One morning I was upstairs in a bathroom getting cleaned up when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I noticed that even my bathroom door didn't have a lock, and I started to panic. I wanted to scream for help but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. Then I heard a deep low voice describing something scary, and I realized I was in an advertisement for a scary movie. I remember thinking to myself, "What is this? I didn't agree to this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Third dream: For some reason, I didn't have an apartment any more and I was looking for a place to live. My aunt said I could live with her, so we moved my things into a spare room she had. For no reason at all, my aunt left the dream at this time and I was actually moving into a weird house where my mom lived. I had one room in the basement, but it was jam packed with all kinds of junk (old clothes, a tv that didn't work, broken furniture, some Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figurs). I asked if I could move the junk out of my room, and my mom said no. I asked if I could at least organize it to make room for my stuff, and she also said no to that. I got snotty and said, "Well I won't be staying here for long!" Then I called my dad and started bitching to him, and he mentioned that my mom really liked that junk, so I should probably just try to live with it. I felt very frustrated. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the central theme in all of these unreleated dreams is that I'm constantly searching for a safe and clean place to live. That - or maybe I shouldn't eat mustard hot dogs before bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115772751641093999?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115772751641093999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115772751641093999' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115772751641093999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115772751641093999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/series-of-dreams-with-message.html' title='A series of dreams with a message'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115747378769644037</id><published>2006-09-05T09:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T09:36:35.310-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Storms and Donkey Kong</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/1600/donkeykong.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/320/donkeykong.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a dream that my sister and I were at this lake in North Dakota near my parents' house. In real life, the lake is about a mile away, but in the dream, it was right next door to the house where I grew up in. My sister and I were standing out by the water, and I noticed some really dark clouds moving in quickly. I tried to get my sister to go home with me before it started to storm, but she refused. It started to rain and thunder and lightning, and a lightning bolt hit a tree nearby. The tree fell into the water and kind of exploded with all these fireworks and flames. It was very cool but scary, so we went home. My mom was waiting at the door and was angry at me for being by the lake during a storm. My sister went downstairs and started digging around in a closet and found my Fisher Price record player and Donkey Kong record that I had as a kid. I was very excited about this, but she wouldn't let me see it. She just walked past me with my stuff and left the room. That's really mean. You shouldn't take someone's Donkey Kong record like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115747378769644037?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115747378769644037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115747378769644037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115747378769644037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115747378769644037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/storms-and-donkey-kong_05.html' title='Storms and Donkey Kong'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115738758985225070</id><published>2006-09-04T09:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:16:11.729-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The dream spawned from the forbidden fruit</title><content type='html'>This was a pretty hazy dream.  I remember that I was in some sort of accident and that I needed to get my foot reatached to my body.  After that happened I went to some sort of war.  Me and some other dude were driving a speed boat while being chased by some other boats.  I was driving and shooting ak47's and silenced berretas and the boats next to us and behind us.  It was weird because the drivers of the boats chasing us were dead old people and the poeple shooting at us were chinese mobsters.  Eventually I made my way back to some place where you could order tacos and pizza.  I saw my friend Caroline there and she was with some dude who looked like he was maybe 10.  They were both really drunk. This was okay because I was slightly drunk too.  The 10 year old ordered enough food to feed probably 5 people and we laughed.  Some one mentioned "where did Caroline get all that money, it wasnt her father".  I replied that it was her grandfather, and I was really positive about that statement&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115738758985225070?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115738758985225070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115738758985225070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115738758985225070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115738758985225070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/dream-spawned-from-forbidden-fruit.html' title='The dream spawned from the forbidden fruit'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115711960255214157</id><published>2006-09-01T07:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:16:34.383-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Schizophrenic</title><content type='html'>This dream started out with random people coming out of nowhere and attacking me.  I called my friend Joe to come and help me.  He didn't believe that I was being attacked at all.  I saw Phil and asked him if he would help me from getting attacked.  I think he agreed, bu I don't really remember for sure.  We ended up going to a doctor and the doctor told me that the people weren't real.  So I guess I was schizophrenic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115711960255214157?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115711960255214157/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115711960255214157' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115711960255214157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115711960255214157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/schizophrenic.html' title='Schizophrenic'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115711922551607324</id><published>2006-09-01T06:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:16:53.143-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Its a piece of cake to have a crazy dream</title><content type='html'>In the dream I woke up near the EE-CSCI building.  I woke up just wearing my boxers and under my blanket (what I normally sleep in).  I started walking down the street towards Coffman with my blanket wrapped around my waist  When I got there I saw a security guard from my high school named Jerry.  Jerry told me I should go walk into a room on the left side of the building because people are playing strip poker and it would be hilarious if  I went in there.  I walked into the room and my friend Alex Carlsted was there and he thought I was hilarious.  I walked to another room and some other stuff happened that I don't really remember but then I saw Blake.  He was showing off this weird feature on his mac that I didn't really understand.  There was this thick black line on his screen that he was tracing with his mouse.  After he did a solid trace an icon of some pink work like things appeared on his screen.  some how he moved the pink icon and a yellow icon out of his screen into physical objects.  He the plugged the pink worm like objects into the yellow ones.  then he plugged them into his head phone jack and they inflated into a balloon.  I then grabbed then balloon and started to float around the room.  I remember that Blake left and came back and was upset because I had used up a lot of his worm things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115711922551607324?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115711922551607324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115711922551607324' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115711922551607324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115711922551607324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/09/its-piece-of-cake-to-have-crazy-dream.html' title='Its a piece of cake to have a crazy dream'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115695620071206965</id><published>2006-08-30T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:17:27.907-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Conan Obrien</title><content type='html'>In the dream me, my family, and some HRL staff went to go see Conan Obrien do a standup ruitine.  During the performance for some reason I frequently would leave my seat and some lady would keep sitting down whwere I originaly sat so I had to keep on kicking her out.  At one point I got out of my seat and ran accross the stage for some reason.  Canon didn't say anything, he seemed to be cool with it.  When he was done with the performance all of a sudden he appeared in the seat inbetween my dad and my grandma.  My dad put his arm around conan and started talking about stuff.  I also noticed that conan had an extra baby arm attached to his left forearm.  I thought that was kind of strange but i didn't call him on it.  Finaly he turned to me and said something like "Hi John Backes how are you".  I told him that he was the best late night comic on the air.  Then he said something about the other comics started there shows at 2:00pm and thats why they were bad.  everybody left the theater where we were and I was looking for my backpack and I couldnt find it.  Blake Pierce had also told me to look after his backpack, and I couldnt find that one either.  This was very bad because our laptops were in the backpacks.  I looked every where and couldn't find them but I did find a Dell 6000m notbook that had a sticker that said a wierd name like "Kyo Sonu" or something.  It also had a sticker on it that said HRL.  I asked Todd if he knew who owned the laptop and he said that he did so he took it and the dream was over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115695620071206965?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115695620071206965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115695620071206965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115695620071206965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115695620071206965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/conan-obrien.html' title='Conan Obrien'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115695335194397299</id><published>2006-08-30T08:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-30T08:55:51.953-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Caring is creepy</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was enrolling for some strange new school. Rob and I went to register, and I was excited because this school required uniforms and I thought the uniform was sexy. I saw my friend Levi near the registration machine (it was in a cafeteria style room with lots of other students mulling around). The machine was like an x-ray machine, and you put your ID on it and it x-rayed it. My picture showed up as a smiling skull version of myself, which I liked a lot, and I showed it to Levi. He said it was cute and that he must own that skull. That creeped me out. I hope Levi is not plotting to kill me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115695335194397299?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115695335194397299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115695335194397299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115695335194397299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115695335194397299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/caring-is-creepy.html' title='Caring is creepy'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115686925554414636</id><published>2006-08-29T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-29T09:34:41.740-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn paparazzi</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was in some east coast state (Maine, I think) drinking at a bar with some weird people that I didn't know. There were a bunch of these crazy drunks, and we were drinking on the upper level of the bar along the ocean, at what appeared to be a private party. I remember I was on my 4th beer and some guy decided to cut me off because I'd had enough. I was angry about this because I'd been drinking for almost 5 hours, so 4 beers didn't seem like much. He tried to trick me by giving me a can of Dr. Pepper instead. Greatly insulted, I took the Dr. Pepper and left. I went downstairs and sat at the bar. I ordered one last beer and a very tan, fake-looking guy came up and started flirting with me. He was hammered and saying funny stuff, so I laughed and he paid for the beer before I could say no. Then I took off and went back to wherever it was that I was staying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, I got this anonymous letter in the mail that had a newspaper clipping about some actor from that TV show, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The OC&lt;/span&gt;. I don't watch it, so I didn't know who he was, but apparently in my dream he was the fake looking guy at the bar. The article was about how he was dating some new girl in Maine, and it showed a picture of he and I sitting at the bar drinking a beer and laughing. I was horrified by this and didn't want anyone to think I was dating the OC guy (mainly because it wasn't true but also because it was the OC guy). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom called and started lecturing me about drinking too much and dating bad news guys like movie stars. I vowed never to go to a bar alone again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115686925554414636?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115686925554414636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115686925554414636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115686925554414636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115686925554414636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/damn-paparazzi.html' title='Damn paparazzi'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115669627317167712</id><published>2006-08-27T09:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:17:43.827-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jamican, teacher, neighborhood, Harry Potter, Stargate</title><content type='html'>Last night I had what I think was a series of very vivid dreams.  They were random and didn't necessarily correspond to each other.  I will try to write this entry in the chronological order in which the dreams occurred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My first recollection was I was on some sort of large boat (I think).  Before I had gone to bed I had watched the movie Stargate so this dream revolved loosely around the film.  There was a large Jamaican man with cool looking dreads.  Me and my companion asked if we could speak to him in private but his friends were being uncooperative.  Eventually his friends left him alone and we started asking him if he would like to be a host for the tokra symbiote Cellmac (it's a Stargate thing).  I do not remember his response but then suddenly I think the dream changed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I am in an old style classroom somewhere in Europe.  The teacher is talking about how to solve equations with multiple variables.  The class is not listening and the teacher is getting very upset.  All of a sudden there was a new teacher  I don't really remember what he was talking about but he was asking people questions.  Then a student asked him I question that had to do with a document that he found when he was taking meat out of his freezer.  The teacher shuttered because he realized that the document was actually a &lt;a href="http://www.hp-lexicon.org/magic/devices/horcruxes.html"&gt;Horcrux&lt;/a&gt;, or something to that effect, that was made by Lord Voldemort.  The teacher freaked out and did some magic stuff that transported him to a dark room some place with Dumbledore and Professor Snape (wow I want to beat myself up for having such a nerdy little kid like dream).  Dumbledore and the teacher started to give Snape some sort of polygraph test where the teacher put on headphones and when Snape said something un-truthful the headphones would say what the truth was in Snape's voice.  They asked him a question like “who in your classes do you think is attractive”.  He was given a list of students and said no to all of them except for one girl.  The headphones did not make a sound. This indicated that Snape was telling the truth.  Then the question was asked “who in your classes do you think thinks you are attractive”?  This time Snape said no to all of them except this time the machine said he was lying and that the girl he said he thought was attractive also thought that he was attractive.  The teacher and Dumbledore gave Snape a pep talk and told him that a lot of girls thought he was attractive.  Then Snape yelled at the teacher and said “you are only here because you want to ascend!”.  This is another reference to the Stargate series.  Then some one asked the question “what state of matter is blood”?  Suddenly I was the teacher and I said “plasma”.  Then we started talking about how you could make things have a jello like consistency.  I asked if any one knew how I could make steak have a jello like consistency.  I forgot who said it but Snape or Dumbledore said that you have to cook it cold then cook it again with a dry heat.  I don't really know what this means but that is okay because all of a sudden I am the teacher and I am back in the class room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently I got fired for doing magic stuff but the kids felt bad and bought me a bunch of supplies and food that I could take with me on the road.  I was very grateful because I no longer had a job and I could not afford to buy any myself.  I started to drive home and then the dream began to take more of a realistic turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started walking up a street in my neighborhood in Eden Prairie.  I was looking at people playing outside but instead of it being the memories I have of younger kids playing outside I saw people I know at the age they are right now.  I also saw saw my 3rd grade teacher Mr. Bovitz running behind me with a bunch of runners because he was in charge of the club where kids would run after school.  He didn't recognize me which I figured he wouldn't because I have seen him twice in the past 6 years and he did not recognize me either time.  Mr. Bovitz was very tall and he was wearing a tight fitting hockey jersey which had the word “Humphr3” on the back.  I took this to be a leet way of spelling Humphrey.  As I started walking done my street some more I saw my Physics TA from this past year standing In the drive way of an older guy I know.  He was practicing his military marching techniques.  Now I am rounding the corner to my house and I see that the people in the house directly across from me have their relatives over and they are hicks.  one of them was wearing an ugly bright green hat and she was throwing a ball to a little girl who had a mullet that extended down to her ankles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I make it to my house and my family is packing up the car on the drive way and getting ready to go someplace.  My dad is upset because he didn't think we left the good safe at the place where we are going.  But I remembered that we had left a number of the crappy red plastic ones up there.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the last part that I remember of this dream.  You are very brave for reading it for this long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115669627317167712?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115669627317167712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115669627317167712' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115669627317167712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115669627317167712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/jamican-teacher-neighborhood-harry.html' title='Jamican, teacher, neighborhood, Harry Potter, Stargate'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115660963076881268</id><published>2006-08-26T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-26T09:27:10.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Overzealous seafood deli worker</title><content type='html'>I had a dream that I was at a mall, and I was getting food. This mall has the greatest selection of places to eat that I have ever witnessed. There were the typical things like Subway and then some less common dining establishments. I was about to purchase a $1.50 hot dog (what a deal!) from a Metrodome-like concession stand when I was approached by a deli worker from the neighboring food stand. He said they had some sort of clam type thing on special, and he really wanted me to sample it. I don't like seafood, but he &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; wanted me to try it, so I took a small bite. It was the worst thing I have ever tasted! I ran to the garbage can and spit it out. Then I started making loud gurgling noises and began to dry heave. The deli worker's coworkers gave him a disappointed look that seemed to suggest "Man, he shouldn't be so pushy with the clam samples." Other customers who had been mulling about around the deli decided to eat elsewhere when they saw me puking into the garbage can after sampling the food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115660963076881268?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115660963076881268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115660963076881268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115660963076881268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115660963076881268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/overzealous-seafood-deli-worker.html' title='Overzealous seafood deli worker'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115651741284459206</id><published>2006-08-25T07:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:18:05.523-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy Beer Jerk</title><content type='html'>The beggining of this dream started with me witnessing an entire city being destroyed by a dump truck.  After the whole city was gone I realized that it wasnt a real city but instead I was watching a game of sim city 2000.  Then the next thing I remember I was in a car in some drive way.  There was some crazy dude there and he said something like "you need to fix my computer" when i refused he said "well i guess you dont want any Michelob".  Then he procceded to take two cases of Michelob light out of the trunk of the car and dance around with each case under his arms singing a song that went something like "Michelob Michelob Michelob!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115651741284459206?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115651741284459206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115651741284459206' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115651741284459206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115651741284459206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/crazy-beer-jerk.html' title='Crazy Beer Jerk'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115651707049345351</id><published>2006-08-25T07:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:18:42.479-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Disney World Airplane Scandal</title><content type='html'>So this dream was really indepth and a lot happened but unfortionatly I dont remember most of it.  The parts I do remember consisted of me and my friends hanging out at disney world.  Then I think that some other people started fighting us and it was time for us to leave.  Because I am paranoid of getting on the plane and stuff when I fly places I made a point of being the first person to get on the plane.  When I got on the plane i remember that I had left my backpack someplace in the amusment park.  I freaked out and went running to go get it.  I eventually found it and ran back to the airplane.  They were closing up the plane just as I got there and i screamed at them to stop.  They stopped and handed me a piece of paper as I stepped onto the plane.  The paper ended up being a fine for more than 2000 dollars for being late.  I then procceded to freak out and wake up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115651707049345351?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115651707049345351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115651707049345351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115651707049345351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115651707049345351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/disney-world-airplane-scandal.html' title='Disney World Airplane Scandal'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115651410354078122</id><published>2006-08-25T06:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T06:55:03.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sweet relief, then confusion</title><content type='html'>I used to own a black Ovation accoustic electric guitar. Last night I dreamt that I still owned it and gave it away to this strange old lady who wanted to learn how to play. She had one normal eye and one cat eye. She took my guitar and got into a car with an old man when I realized that my friend Zack had offered to buy the guitar from me for $150. Feeling stupid, I ran outside and told Old Wacky Eye that I needed the guitar back. I apologized and she was very understanding, and I remember feeling an optimistic affirmation about the human race. Next thing you know, I'm moving and very unhappy about it. I was moving into a place with some guy I went to high school with named Josh. I really didn't want to live with him, but I wasn't sure how to get out of it. Then I woke up and was very happy that I didn't live with Josh but also confused as to why my bed didn't have a sheet on it (it's because I had put my sheets in the dryer earlier after I left my window open and my bed got rained on). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115651410354078122?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115651410354078122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115651410354078122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115651410354078122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115651410354078122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/sweet-relief-then-confusion.html' title='Sweet relief, then confusion'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115590560407251238</id><published>2006-08-18T05:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:18:58.455-08:00</updated><title type='text'>UPS?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6522/3465/1600/vontage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6522/3465/320/vontage.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a very short one.  All I remember us Bob and I had to go to Yudof Hall to get a very large UPS.  This thing was very very heavy and I never found out why we needed to get it.  The casing of the larger power supply was blue and I think had the word "Vontage" or something close to that written on the side with large white text.  After we checked it out from the front desk using IDEA the person at the desk (who was also my best friends little sister) refused to give me my U-card back.  Eventually we coaxed her into giving it back.  At this point Bob and I discussed how much talk time we would get if we hooked the battery of the ups directly into a cell phone.  That is all I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115590560407251238?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115590560407251238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115590560407251238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115590560407251238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115590560407251238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/ups.html' title='UPS?'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115575150869776788</id><published>2006-08-16T11:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:19:24.767-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>So last night I had a dream that I guess isn't that freaky but it seemed really scary at the time.  I don't remember much, but what I do remember was I was riding in a car with my mom and she was driving.  We drove into my neighborhood and when we got there all of a sudden the car disappeared and I was placed about 50 meters behind where the car was.  In place of the vehicle was a motorcycle.  I hoped on the motorcycle and rode home to find my mother working in the kitchen.  I asked where had happened and she insisted that she didn't know what I was talking about.  Then I had a strange feeling that something was wrong, or maybe it was that I knew this had happened before.  I started screaming at my mom for her to tell me what was going on and she just ignored me and I eventually realized that I might be in a dream and then I woke up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I woke up a started remembering a lot of dreams that I had forgotten about but then I fell back asleep and forgot them&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115575150869776788?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115575150869776788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115575150869776788' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115575150869776788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115575150869776788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/so-last-night-i-had-dream-that-i-guess.html' title=''/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115575109597829720</id><published>2006-08-16T10:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:19:39.552-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Im not built to be a soldier</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6522/3465/1600/JumpCopters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/6522/3465/320/JumpCopters.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the dream started out where me and a friend were in the Vietnam war.  The weired thing is i don't really think I ever saw any one get shot at or anything.  Mostly I remember that my job was to clean up after the dogs in the war.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended up winning the war and then there was a conflict between north and south Korea.  We went to the country on our helicopters and started talking to people there.  We were on the side of south Korea and we started talking to some people there who turned out to be north Korea.  Rather than killing us they just laughed at us and we attempted to fly our helicopters away over the trees.  it was very hard to do this but we eventually got to south Korea by where the rest of the army was stationed.  Again at this war I do not really remember seeing any guns.  I do remember seeing a whole bunch of weird tools that were on the back of a truck that we were guarding.  Eventually, every one left except for me and one other person.  I think that we were put in charge of guarding the truck.  All of a sudden the person I was with got shot at.  I realized that it was coming from inside the truck so I picked up a crow bar and I swung it at one of the windows.  It turned out that there were a bunch of hicks inside the truck and they just started throwing tools and heavy objects at all of us.  I tried to fight back but I eventually gave up and just let them knock all my teeth out and beat me to death.  Then i woke up and was like “yea that was kind of weird”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115575109597829720?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115575109597829720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115575109597829720' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115575109597829720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115575109597829720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/im-not-built-to-be-soldier.html' title='Im not built to be a soldier'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115574319641357599</id><published>2006-08-16T07:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T10:53:23.860-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So I guess I'm psychic.... who knew?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/1600/kitty.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/200/kitty.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Shortly after blogging about getting my orange kitten with white paws, a coworker sent me &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://minneapolis.craigslist.org/zip/194574947.html" target="new"&gt;this link&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. &lt;p&gt;The ad is for a free baby kitten (see picture on right). I am not looking for a cat or anything, although I was a few months ago, so I'm sure that's why Doug thought of me when he saw the link. Regardless, that cat is Loki from my dream! Too weird...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115574319641357599?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115574319641357599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115574319641357599' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115574319641357599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115574319641357599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/so-i-guess-im-psychic-who-knew.html' title='So I guess I&apos;m psychic.... who knew?'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115573612757333647</id><published>2006-08-16T06:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T06:48:47.583-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kind of sad</title><content type='html'>Last night:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Macy came to visit me. She lives in Fargo, but she brought me a birthday present (I'm not sure why - my birthday was 4 months ago). It was a kitten. I was very happy about this. The kitten was orange with white paws and I named him Loki after Matt Damon's character in the movie Dogma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the kitty home and then met Aimee and Rob at a mall/amusement park combo. At this place, you drove around in carts to each store. Or you drive the cart onto the carnival rides. Knowing that I hate rides, Aimee and Rob tricked me by pretending to drive our cart to a store but &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; driving it up to the start of a roller coaster. I jumped out right before they went on the roller coaster. This made the mall attendants angry because apparently you aren't supposed to get out of the carts...ever. So I was running and hiding from mall security, and also running from my friends because I knew they'd make fun of me for chickening out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made it out of the mall and met some of my family for lunch. My uncle (who I only see every five years maybe) was telling me about his plans to get re-married to some new lady he'd met. This seemed strange since he isn't divorced. For some reason, this made me think of my other uncle, who has passed away, and I became very sad. I started crying in the dream and couldn't stop, even after the waitress had brought our food. Then I woke up, feeling sad about my uncle and because I didn't have a kitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115573612757333647?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115573612757333647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115573612757333647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115573612757333647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115573612757333647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/kind-of-sad.html' title='Kind of sad'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115549287313130952</id><published>2006-08-13T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:20:17.365-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The awesome crusade</title><content type='html'>Last night I slept 11 hours and I had a dream somewhere between 9:00am and 1:00pm about an old fasion crusade.  I was in some awesome villiage and we were sitting around trying to figure out what to do.  And then Aragorn (the guy from the lord of the rings) was like, "Hey if you guys arnt doing anything we can go take over that village in the north".  So we set forth.  We had some sweet elf guy who could build these awesome bridges out of noware.  We rode into battle and fought the other villiag's army and then we went accross a bridge that the elf build.  We road up a hill and there was some wood with a rock on top and Aragorn hit it with his sword and it fell down in such a manner that it built a bridge.  Then we got to another puzzle and a ghost appeared and yelled at Aragorn because he was still wearing his ice tunic that he had used to solve the puzzle before.  Then i woke up and it was 1:00pm and i was like "damn in lazy".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115549287313130952?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115549287313130952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115549287313130952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115549287313130952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115549287313130952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/awesome-crusade.html' title='The awesome crusade'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115530469285044653</id><published>2006-08-11T06:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T09:28:21.623-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Nightmare on MY street</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/1600/bridezilla.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4365/2304/200/bridezilla.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I kept dreaming about ghosts and haunted houses. I was really getting freaked out when the dream took a weird turn and I was suddenly married to my ex fiance. I looked down at my hand, saw a ring on my finger, and then screamed. He is a good guy and all, but it just wasn't right. Through these scary dreams, I learned an important lesson:  Don't eat nachos before bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115530469285044653?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115530469285044653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115530469285044653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115530469285044653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115530469285044653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/nightmare-on-my-street_11.html' title='Nightmare on MY street'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115530464684718243</id><published>2006-08-11T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T06:58:30.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Curse of The Black Pearl... or not</title><content type='html'>So there I was sleeping last night, and all of the sudden I get this dream. I'm not sure why, but I was back in my house in Fargo starting to watch the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Then I was rudely awoken by my friends from high school who thought it was very important to call me at 3:37 AM. The end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: There was an interesting twist in there before the phone call, but I really can't remember it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115530464684718243?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115530464684718243/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115530464684718243' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115530464684718243'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115530464684718243'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/curse-of-black-pearl-or-not.html' title='The Curse of The Black Pearl... or not'/><author><name>Karl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115521889836503936</id><published>2006-08-10T07:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-10T07:08:18.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A long one</title><content type='html'>The people I work with keep making their way into my dreams. I'm starting to seriously think I need a vacation. Anyway my dream yesterday started out when I was driving with Bob (we were carpooling somewhere) and were discussing backing up some things on our servers. I remember saying, "Dude I don't even have an account on Silverfish!" I'm not sure what that had to do with anything, and I know absolutely nothing about databases. Bob did not seem concerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; We pulled in to a camp ground where Keri and a few others from work were organizing a charity event for a group of unknown children. My job was to construct an underground tent for the mystery kids to sleep in. The strange thing about this tent is that it was low to the ground, narrow, and long. People using the tent would sleep in a long line since the tent was tube shaped. I was doing a pretty good job making the tent, but started to get really claustrophobic when I got to the end of the tent since there was no air flow and I couldn't open a window (obviously, because I was underground - duh!). I backed out quickly and Keri noticed I was visibly shaken. She said, "Don't worry about it - you did an awesome job, and they can start camping now." The mystery kids scurried into their underground tube tent, and I felt an undeniable feeling of accomplishment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I ended up back at my apartment, where I was hanging out with Todd. He had shorts on, and I noticed he had an excessive amount of large tattoos on his legs. I didn't know Todd had any tattoos, and when I told him that, he took off his shirt to reveal even more large, biker-esque ink. I noticed that he had taped black electrical tape to his feet. My phone rang, and it was John Backes. He was downstairs and needed to be let in. I went and got him, and he was dressed strangely, sort of like a cardboard robot. He had boxes on his feet and taped to his arms and legs. He acted like it was normal, so I went with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon I was sitting in a room with a girl I don't know and my friend Rob. Rob and I were trying to dissuade the girl from getting married. Somehow we could tell that she was unhappy, and we wanted her to know that she doesn't have to settle. I think we were making progress, but we got yelled at for being too noisy. I realized we were in a library.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I was out in the middle of nowhere with a huge group of people - I think it was a family reunion. The family (who I didn't know) was constructing an estate. I know this because I asked what they were doing, and they replied "We are constructing an estate." They were building a mansion and several extravagant guest houses on the property. There was also a swimming pool and a golf course. One of the family members was a professional photographer who was photo-documenting the process. I kept accidentally walking in front of the camera as he was about to snap a good action shot. Subsequently, he hated me. I was upset by this, so I decided to talk to my boss, Jill, about what was going on. We went into a conference room in a building on the estate, but another lady in the room kept telling me to hush and keep quiet. Finally she got pissed and said "Shut up!" and then Jill got all bad ass, tough stuff, "don't give my employee attitude" and went over there. I felt good knowing that my boss defended me. But I really needed a Pepsi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw some dudes who looked like frat boys carrying very large coolers full of soda and ice. I saw Diet Pepsi, so I knew there must be regular in there as well. I swaggered up to them and started digging in the cooler, but this disrupted their balance, and they started to drop the cooler. I helped by grabbing the shaky cooler and we carried it successfully to a large swimming pool that was filled with ice and booze (like the one I had at my beach party). I pretended like it was my intention all along to help them move the pop, and therefore the guys thought I was cool. I started singing the Lazytown song about how you gotta do the cooking by the book, and this also impressed them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remained sleeping, but in my dream, I woke up. I thought, "whoa homey, what a spectacularly f**ed up dream! I better write down some notes about it before I forget this wackiness!" I found a Sharpie and wrote a page of notes about my dream. Then I woke up for real and was pissed off that I didn't actually  have the notes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115521889836503936?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115521889836503936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115521889836503936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115521889836503936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115521889836503936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/long-one.html' title='A long one'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115513615572018009</id><published>2006-08-09T08:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:20:45.339-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Creepy Diggnation</title><content type='html'>Last night i had a dream that i met Alex Albrecht (an internet celebrity that hosts the show "Diggnation").  We were at a friends house and he came over to play soccer with us.  He got out of a van and seemed very drunk.  I was like "Alex you are awesome!!! I want to take my picture with you!!!".  I got some awesome pictures with him.  Then the next day i was talking to my friend about how awesome it was that he knew Alex.  My friend did not know what i was talking about and then i looked at the pictures and only i was in them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115513615572018009?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115513615572018009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115513615572018009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115513615572018009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115513615572018009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/creepy-diggnation.html' title='Creepy Diggnation'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115495936938954543</id><published>2006-08-07T06:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-07T07:02:49.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rednecks, regifting, and hickeys</title><content type='html'>I had a vivid and confusing dream last night. In it, I worked for Residential Life as a CA, and the residents on my floor were forced to move (temporarily) into another building (for reasons I don't know).  I was very unhappy about it, especially since everyone was bitching to me and I couldn't do anything about it. So I drove my car to the building we were to move to, which happened to be in front of a very redneck-y house with some guys in wifebeaters who were working on cars on the front lawn. I asked to use their bathroom, and they said ok. But when I got to their bathroom, I noticed a shelf with a lot of familiar items. It was all of my cousin Jackie's gifts from last Christmas! She had pawned them to the rednecks! I was outraged by this, so I called her up and said "Hey, I know what happened to your xmas gifts, you skanky ho-bag!" She didn't seem to mind, saying that the gifts were cheap and meaningless to her anyway. I was still upset so I went outside and got into my car and decided to drive fast to let off steam. At this point, I noticed that I had a big purple-y mark on my jawline that appeared to be a hickey, and I was quite embarrassed by this. I went back to work and Susan S. (the director of Residential Life) asked me if I got into a skiiing accident. I said yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115495936938954543?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115495936938954543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115495936938954543' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115495936938954543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115495936938954543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/rednecks-regifting-and-hickeys.html' title='Rednecks, regifting, and hickeys'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115469500335018947</id><published>2006-08-04T05:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:21:14.989-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Try to analyze this</title><content type='html'>&lt;font color="red"&gt;*Warning: this is one of the weirdest dreams I have had in a while.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the dream is really jumpy and I dont remember a lot of this but I think it started out at the end of work today (08/04/2006).  After work Krsti, Todd, and I went to Kristi's apartment which happened to be on an upper floor of Comstock Hall.  Kristi's apartment closley resembled Todd's old place (cans, bottles and glasses strewn about every where).  Krsti grabbed a 40oz of coke that looked kind of like Brad's Mexican coke and sat down on her couch.  I grabbed a can of coke and started drinking it.  Then all of a sudden I realized I was drinking a glass of flat coke that had been laying around there for a while and I thought it would make me sick so I spit it out. Kristi got mad and was like "what happened?!?!?!".  Then she suggested that while I was here I should move one of the website's databases over to a database on another server.  She said that if I couldn't do it she would make Bob do it.  I thought to myself that this would be a really easy thing to do (in reality I don't really know how I would do this.... I would have to think about it for a while).  Any ways, I said I would do it but I would have to move one of her 5 different T.V.'s.  I moved two right next to each other and then typed a sql query that looked like the following:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SELECT *&lt;br /&gt;FROM Forms.(something)=&lt;br /&gt;AND MBR.(something) =&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This made total sense to me in the dream and I was rather impressed by my 1337 hax.  The dream then got kind of hazy at this point I remember talking to Doug about the database merger and then to my 8th grade social studies teacher about how the server that I moved the database to was in a Colo by Enchankar in Chanhasan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next the dream flashed to my family and I in the old Eden Prairie mall (the one where Mall Rats was filmed).  we were talking about how my grandma was an extra in some movie tottally unrelated to mall rats.  I pictured a scene of my grandma walking down a street and black suv's and helicopters pulling up next to her and than she ran away.  My dad said that he was going to order pizza.  My brother and I asked him if we could have $20 to go buy clothes at target.  He agreed and gave us the money.  When we got to target my brother disappeared and Todd came up behind me with a baby and said something to the effect that it had pooped and that I needed to change it.  I said no because I had already changed it twice that day and I told him he needed to do it.  We went in the bathroom and changed that baby and then i woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;*A side note:&lt;/span&gt; I have no idea why I have wierd dreams like this.  I suggest that people make comments on this dream and try to analyze it because i think it will intice humorous results.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115469500335018947?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115469500335018947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115469500335018947' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115469500335018947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115469500335018947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/try-to-analyze-this.html' title='Try to analyze this'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115452693814061730</id><published>2006-08-02T06:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-02T07:00:55.950-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cabin - Internet = pieced together dream for the blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.rosshalfin.co.uk/gunsnroses/gunsnroses-colour03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.rosshalfin.co.uk/gunsnroses/gunsnroses-colour03.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So after deciding on this extremely long title, I started remembering some details from a dream that I had last Saturday. I was at a lake, so I couldn't get it online in time to remember it all. So this is just a tribute.&lt;br /&gt;As I recall, all of us from work were goofing around at work and generally blogging on the dream blog. I remember someone having a really cool dream and as they were telling me about it, I started to have that dream, but it was narrated by Blogger(who had a very strange British accent). Then I returned to the office, or somewhere and I yelled at you all for playing Guns n Roses way too loud. Then it just kind of gets hazy from there on out to the morning. But I know that the GnR came from me yelling at the other people in the cabin for playing GnR at about 2 in the morning when I was sleeping.&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the Dream: GnR will always be the soundtrack to our lives&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115452693814061730?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115452693814061730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115452693814061730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115452693814061730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115452693814061730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/cabin-internet-pieced-together-dream.html' title='Cabin - Internet = pieced together dream for the blog'/><author><name>Karl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115452276251627360</id><published>2006-08-02T05:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:21:33.815-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Space Ship, Band Camp, Cocoa Mix</title><content type='html'>So i don't completely remember most of this dream but here it goes.  At some point the dream involved me jumping on a strange space craft and flying through mountains while being shot at by anothe identicle space craft.  I eventually got the crazy blue slipper and jumped into a large body of water and then i dont remember the rest until i went back to camp.  That is right, I went back to the the band camp that i attended  when i was younger, except it wasnt really the camp.  This time the camp had a beach that touched the ocean.  My brother and i rode some vehical out by a dorm accross the beach.  When we got there we waited for the others to approach.  the only two people i remember coming was a girl that i met once who was with my brother and sister and Phil demro's friend Pete.  The other person who approached was Tim Allen.  Not Tim Allen the home improvement guy but my brothers intern friend Tim Allen from work.  The situation was awkward because last time a saw him in real life was saterday and i called him a douche bag to other people because i didnt know he was right outside the room.  Now i reach another period where i dont know what happend in the dream.  The next i remember i am in a car with my dad and we are driving through a nieghborhood in Eden Prairie.  My friend Kevan drives up behind my dad and starts honking his horn and laughing like crazy.  My dad yells stuff like "son of a bitch!" and other things fo that nature.  Kevan eventually went home and my dad says "I think we have time to get cocoa mix".  We went to the Driskill's Groccery (a store that i worked at my sophmore year in highschool and got bought out my Senior year).  I asked Pat Marshall my old manager where the scissors were for opening my cocoa mix he pointed me to isle 3 or 4 and i saw a big pair of scissors i reached out to grab them but i realized that they were some one elses scissors.  The lady who owned them freaked out and started lecturing me.  I then saw a pair of sccissors that had a ceraded edge and i grabed those.  My dad told me to to grab the smoothed edged sccissors so i put the ceraded ones down and grabed the smoothed edged ones instead.  I do not reamember the rest of the dream from this point on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115452276251627360?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115452276251627360/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115452276251627360' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115452276251627360'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115452276251627360'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/space-ship-band-camp-cocoa-mix.html' title='Space Ship, Band Camp, Cocoa Mix'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115443496927880216</id><published>2006-08-01T05:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T05:22:49.286-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Phil the sexist</title><content type='html'>Many of my coworkers made their way into my dream last night. We were in the office, and unlike real life, I was a hard-edged, take-crap-from-no-one supervisor who liked yelling at people. I came into the office one morning and noticed Phil Demro had a naked lady picture set as the background of his workstation's computer. I told him to remove it, and when he didn't quietly obey, I flew off the handle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kristi (patient): Phil, take that picture off your computer. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;Phil: Do I really have to take it down?&lt;br /&gt;Kristi: Yes. If might offend someone. And I know you don't want to offend someone. You are a nice person.&lt;br /&gt;Phil: Do you really think I'm a nice person, Kristi?&lt;br /&gt;Kristi (angry now): That's it! Take that nudie picture down right now before I write you up!&lt;br /&gt;(Jill emerges from her office in the back)&lt;br /&gt;Jill: Is there a problem here? Phil - do you think women are objects? We won't tolerate this kind of undermining of our authority!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the student staff snickered and then I walked out of the building and jumped into a swimming pool with my clothes on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115443496927880216?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115443496927880216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115443496927880216' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115443496927880216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115443496927880216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/08/phil-sexist.html' title='Phil the sexist'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115411910481617927</id><published>2006-07-28T13:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T13:38:24.823-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Funerals and Alarm Clocks</title><content type='html'>So here I was at a visitation and it was like it was in a movie. The camera that I was watching all of this through was following the line for the visitation and it finally stopped with me in the front of the line in front of the casket. I stood there looking at the casket and all of the sudden the mouth of the corpse opened up and the sound of my alarm clock started coming out of the corpse's mouth. Being resourceful, I made a fist and slammed it down into the open mouth of the corpse. I woke up then and realized that I actually slammed down on the top of my alarm clock.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115411910481617927?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115411910481617927/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115411910481617927' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115411910481617927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115411910481617927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/funerals-and-alarm-clocks.html' title='Funerals and Alarm Clocks'/><author><name>Karl</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115411613546730175</id><published>2006-07-28T12:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T12:56:49.290-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I didn't want to be a cheerleader anyway</title><content type='html'>Last week I had a dream that I got boob implants. I think this concept was inspired by my previous night's activities, which including browsing the Minnesota Vikings website and checking out the cheerleaders. Anyway I got the boobs, and although they looked great, they felt funny and totally unrealistic. I thought maybe the funny feeling was just something I was imagining, so I started asking everyone I encountered to feel my boobs and offer their objective opinion. Certain people squeezed too hard, and I yelped in pain. (I didn't know you could feel physical pain in a dream.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up feeling unhappy that some of my smaller shirts no longer fit and angry that I could no longer sleep comfortably on my stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115411613546730175?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115411613546730175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115411613546730175' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115411613546730175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115411613546730175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/i-didnt-want-to-be-cheerleader-anyway.html' title='I didn&apos;t want to be a cheerleader anyway'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115411513220720204</id><published>2006-07-28T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T12:32:12.216-07:00</updated><title type='text'>underwear and torn book pages</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#333399;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Last night I had a dream that I was showing Kim (my boss) a book that I was reading and was really jazzed about it. Two of its pages had corners torn out for some reason.&lt;br /&gt;She opened the book and highlighted the corners of the pages that were torn as if to say, “Why did you let these pages get torn. That is bad. You really messed things up this time!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got mad and said, “Hey? Whad-up with getting on my back about the torn pages? Step off Kim, I got bigger fish to fry!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she said, “Hey you don’t know what it was like growing up for me!” This really had nothing to do with the book at all …but was a rather strange dream segue.&lt;br /&gt;Even stranger, she threw a pair of my underwear out the car window and they lie there on the street in a small town that appeared to be Lindstrom, MN. The End.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I opened my underwear drawer this morning and saw said pair, the dream came back to me and I was puzzled.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115411513220720204?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115411513220720204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115411513220720204' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115411513220720204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115411513220720204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/underwear-and-torn-book-pages.html' title='underwear and torn book pages'/><author><name>Sunny</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12901707820998746679</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xt7m8nQA_cE/SNz-oTbKjDI/AAAAAAAAAvY/D62iPKlswtM/S220/traceyandkerikids.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115410774084300408</id><published>2006-07-28T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T10:29:00.843-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The backlash begins...</title><content type='html'>Todd Carter has created his own blog completely dedicated to making fun of our blog. Check it out &lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="http://ninjatarian.blogspot.com/" target="new"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115410774084300408?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115410774084300408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115410774084300408' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115410774084300408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115410774084300408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/backlash-begins.html' title='The backlash begins...'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115410322442860464</id><published>2006-07-28T09:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:22:20.934-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cabin Dream</title><content type='html'>The dream that was remembered the most clearly from my cabin was one in which i was a super hero.  I had the same powers as superman.  At the end of the dream two young men were attempting to steal giant water bottles from some woman's store.  I ran in and broke the door open then smashed them around (knocking over a gum ball machine in the process).  I think Ben Sprauge was an attendant at the store.  Other characters in the dream were some newbie on the super hero team that i think might have been in my physics class.  He and Phil Demro would goof off super hero-style while the rest of the team did work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At another point in the night i woke up laughing but i don't remember exactly what that was about other than it involved my friends Graeme and Dave doing something stupid&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115410322442860464?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115410322442860464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115410322442860464' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115410322442860464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115410322442860464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/cabin-dream.html' title='Cabin Dream'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115410297008492852</id><published>2006-07-28T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-02-16T08:22:34.210-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue Creature Dream</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I dreamed that blue caterpillar like creatures had burrowed into my ankle.  I could remove some of them by squeezing my hands down my legs and they would come out the original burrow hole(s).  I went to the hospital and Dr. Cox was there from the popular T.V. show “Scrubs” he decided to be a dick and not help me.  By the end of the dream all the skin from below my knee on my right leg was gone, and I had an awesome stainless steal skeleton underneath all of my skin (i could lift the skin up over my arms as well).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Backes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115410297008492852?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115410297008492852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115410297008492852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115410297008492852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115410297008492852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/blue-creature-dream.html' title='Blue Creature Dream'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31805170.post-115409910985709993</id><published>2006-07-28T07:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-07-28T08:05:09.866-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A short one</title><content type='html'>Last night I dreamt that I randomly ran into this guy I used to know in college. His name was Marshall, and he is very punk in appearance. He has lots of facial piercings  and spikey, dyed hair. Anyway he was enormous in my dream, and I was very small. He said, "Come here, little Kristi!" and he picked me up under my arms like you would a baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I probably had more dreams last night, but Tylenol PM robs me of the details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31805170-115409910985709993?l=dreamthenblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/feeds/115409910985709993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=31805170&amp;postID=115409910985709993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115409910985709993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/31805170/posts/default/115409910985709993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dreamthenblog.blogspot.com/2006/07/short-one.html' title='A short one'/><author><name>kristi</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
