I dreamed I was in high school (ugh) and was having a hard time catching the bus. For some reason, a couple of fellow students and I had driven to the bus stop to catch the bus, but the bus took off before we could get out of the car. I suppose it’s logical to assume that students in a car have no need of the bus. And at some point in the dream I was deliberately trying to make myself look pretty. Doubtless thanks to the amount of Amelia I’m absorbing lately, I was wearing a red evening gown of some sort, had grown my hair all long (undoubtedly inspired by the “hair cut” in Stardust), and was making a big deal of earrings — I seemed to have several more piercings than I do in real life.

So after some vague school stuff, the dream shifted to me and my girlfriend being chased by a witch. We turned into cats the better to flee this witch, who then turned into a dog to chase us. We got separated, and I ran into a baby. The baby and its older brother/caretaker took me in kindly, and I loved the baby and I loved to purr against its fat little cheeks. But I needed to find my girlfriend, so I went looking for her. And I found the people that had taken her in, but unfortunately she had been dying at that point. Apparently I’d given her some of my earrings, so I showed the people the match and they realized what it meant and it was all angsty. And I was sadly hugging one of the earrings she’d been wearing, which had grown, like, as big as me. Which, in retrospect, makes the dream rather more comical than tragic. Which is fairly typical of my tragic dreams.

OK, so Smauss and I worked together a lot last week, which means we talked a freaking lot (much to the annoyance of the store manager), and she mentioned a friend of hers that was talking about what good lube Nutella makes (for bumming purposes, not het stuff). BUT IT’S BROWN. I had to record this in my journal simply… because… it’s BROWN. It’s rather difficult to squick me, but this almost does it. Of course, the knowledge of how delicious Nutella is might counteract the… no, I’m going to stop talking about this.

OH MAN. I made fourteen salads today. Oh, yeah, and I also dreamed that I liked beer. And I really don’t have anything else to say in this entry.

“The activity to which I referred requires that both of us be present.”