I am preparing to go jogging with Chris.  We are in Canada.  We are getting geared up out of my car, which is a Saab hatchback, the old kind.

We start running, and I realize that we haven’t made any plan about what to do with thte car.  Chris carries on running, and I pull the car along to the curb, trying to find a place to leave it.

There is a short section of the curb that seems like a good place to leave the car, but a sign says something  about narrow cars only being allowed there.  It seems to me that my car is not the sort that is allowed to be left there, so I pull it back towards a parking lot (from which we came?).  People at the parking lot tell me that we are not likely to get a ticket before we get back to the car – this is Canada.

New scene: I am listening to a girl talk with two other guys about how she built her website:  She says she used flourless (i.e. codeless)  design with cake (i.e. CakePHP?), whch she found did the job very well.  I see the words flourless and cake as if they are links on a web page.  The guys are asking detailed questions…

…and that’s when the squirrel scratching outside my window woke me up.

This morning, I awoke from something which I wasn’t able to easily discern to have been either a vivid dream or a recent memory.

I was part of a special-ops squad of casually-dressed military people.  My team was getting ready to go out on an operation. Each of us was getting attention from medical personel, who seemed more like sports injury therapists in their demeanor and in the hubbub of activity that was quite unlike an ordinary physician’s office, and more like what I see occuring in the sports therapy room near the locker rooms in NYU’s gym.

While we were being properly bandaged, medicated, or whatever else was required to prepare us for battle, a television at the far side of the room began broadcasting the face of a bald red-headed man with unkempt hair, and a beard talking to the camera.  We all watched it with rapt attention, knowing that he was a member of our team who was now being held captive.  Perhaps it was he who we were about to attempt to rescue.  There were, in fact, two team members who were being held, and it’s possible that both of them made appearances at different times on the television.

The doctor and I began discussing my issue.  I had a small maggot-looking worm in my ear that required removal.  The doctor proceeded to remove the worm from my ear without difficulty.  The doctor cleaned the worm with some lotion, until it glistened off-white in the fluorescent-light lit room.

But I needed the worm back, because having it in my ear gave me enhanced perception.  Without the worm, I would possibly be incapable of performing the important task at hand.  I began surreptitiously spreading some other lotion evenly onto a paper towel which I then folded up and carried out with me as the team and I left the room and began our mission.  I was going to put the worm back in my ear.

I just woke from a vivid dream in which I killed Philip C, an old childhood friend I haven’t seen since high school. The setting is an outdoor party. Back in high school, we had many outdoor parties, drinking beer in the woods, getting chased by police etc. This doesn’t seem to be one of those: we’re older, mellower, and this may take place in the present day.

There are several people milling about, none of whom I recognize, but all of whom are apparently known to me. Philip is walking away with his girlfriend. They are leaving. One of the people standing about, a thin dark-haired man, says, “Kill Philip!” Apparently this is a chance to do what we’ve all been waiting for. I realize that if anyone is capable of doing it, it is me. So I immediately start walking after them towards their car.

I arrive at a dome-shaped toilet, half underground. There is a window at the top of the dome where I can see outside. I am too tall to stand inside the dome, so I begin to urinate crouched over a bit. As I am urinating, I hear Philip arrive. He is talking to his girlfriend saying, “Let me buy you one more drink.”  At first I can see them through the dome roof of the toilet, but they don’t see me.  Then they disappear from my view.

It is clear that Philip doesn’t want to leave. He is being very open to his girlfriend about his ambition to get her drunk and then have sex with her. She makes excuses for why that doesn’t make sense, and tries to convince him to take her home instead. As I am urinating, it becomes clear that she is not really his girlfriend. They do not live together, and the way they are talking about sex indicates a sort of unfamiliarity with each other, although they have, or have at some point had some sort of relationship.

I finish urinating and climb out of the dome. Philip sees me and immediately shoots a gun at me. After an initial shot or two, the gun runs out of bullets. Without much effort, I am able to get control of Philip and the gun, and he ends up on the ground. I fire the gun at him, but there are no bullets left. I place the gun at the back of his head, and pull the trigger. Although the gun has no ammunition, a very small protrusion comes out of the barrel of the gun, similar to the metal apparatus in a glue gun that forces the glue stick forward when you press the trigger.

The protrusion presses gently into the back of Philip’s skull, and this causes him to have a seizure. I take note of this, and continue to press the gun several more times into the back of his head, reinducing seizures each time. Eventually Philip is either dead or severely incapacitated, and other people, who must have heard the commotion, start to arrive on the scene.

Philip’s girlfriend instinctively grabs the gun off the ground and tries to remove it from the scene. But I say, “No, leave it there” within hearing range of the other people, indicating to them that we have nothing to hide.