Strangely had a dream that I was still working in Australia, but when I showed up for work one day the place was full of construction workers were working in our office and we'd been kicked off the property by the owners of the building. I had trouble contacting my boss because I hadn't written down anybody's name of phone number. Strange because this mixes plot points between by current and last job.

I dreamed last night that a number of my old friends from high school were playing lacrosse for the U of A in a very exciting game. Only instead of playing in a field they were playing in a huge multi level parking lot with intricate playground equipment, and instead of trying to score goals, the objective was to collect star bits a la Super Mario Galaxy while having possession of the ball. You might ask how that is much at all like lacrosse and I might answer how do my dreams ever make any sense? They were carrying the ball around with lacrosse sticks at least. The U of A was expected to lose the game by a huge margin, but it was very close and in the final moments of the game my old friend Clayton managed collect enough star bits to capture victory. Blasic had his name signed into the playing field in star bits. Apparently he had a hand in designing the playing “field”.

I remember quite specifically Clayton and Dom were playing for the U of A, and Blasic was in the dream too, which is funny because none of them went to the U of A. It’s also strange because I don’t really have much at all to do with Clayton anymore. One of us friended the other on The Facebook at some point, but our lives have little to do with each other now. I am also pretty sure they never played lacrosse. I don’t even know whatever happened to Blasic.

I am in a college dorm room. My college dorm room. Not the one that I remember. None of the ones from the U of A. I am on the northeast somewhere. I am watching TV. With my roommate. One thing that distinguishes it from my life is that I am getting along with my roommate. There are three TV sets. First the small one is on. Then the respectable 32” one. Then the giant one. I want to ask my roommate how he convinced me to allow so many large TVs in our room, but I think he might think the question odd. I want him to tell me about my life. To tell me about me. About my life in this world. I don’t ask though. It might lead to awkward questions from him. I might accidentally tell him that this is all a dream and then where would I be? I do ask him where we are “this is Philadelphia right?” He doesn’t seem surprised. He doesn’t answer either, as though it was obvious. I have never lived in Philadelphia, but somehow I know this is my life. I’m living in Philadelphia with a roommate that I get along with. I am an undergraduate.

I am awake. Writing this down, but it is already fading from my memory. What was that life like? Me. Not me. Me on the east coast. Me getting along with my college roommate. What was that like? What would it have been like? It is gone. All of it. The only thing that remains is the words that I’ve written down. Not even written; pixels. Ones and zeroes in the computer’s RAM. I was having a instant messaging conversation in that world with someone. I wanted as I fought to wake up to remember; to look in my computer to find out what we were talking about. It was all in my head though, and not stored in my computer’s log file after all. Faded. Gone.

Brownen inspired me to try out the microphone on my notebook. I never even thought to use the thing because I assumed that it would sound crap, but it’s actually not too bad. Anyway, here is a reading of an old entry of mine (I chose not to ad-lib because then I would be “like uh and uh like”:

• streamy

You will hear that I still sound like an American. Alas.

I had a lucid dream last night. I wanted to wake up so that I could record it. I'm not sure why I always have this reaction when I realize I am dreaming, mostly my dreams are pretty incoherent and confusing. Except for the one where I was involved in a (friendly) dog fright with Santa Claus^[1], that was awesome. Ronin was in the dream, so it is probably just as well that I can't remember most of it. I haven't thought about her in what seems like forever!

I have my mum hooked on Arrested Development, so we've been watching an episode pretty much every night. This is good because there is nothing on TV. This is not unlike America, where there is also nothing on TV, except Australians manage to have nothing on TV in just five channels, whereas Americans have one billion channels with their cables and their satellite dishes.

It's sad that Fox is canceling AD. Pretty much everyone I have ever talked to about the show likes it, except for Brad's roommate (about whom, Brad once described as being "high maintenance"). So I can only conclude that Fox has failed to market it correctly.

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[1] I was flying my 1988 Toyota Carola, in case you are wondering.

I just had a funny dream. I was talking to a girl who had these special powers. We were outside and some dark force was after us. I knew that I was dreaming so I asked her to put a force field around us and I tried to make a meteorite hit us. I did manage to get a shooting star effect, but the actual impact location was a long way away. Then I needed to go shopping, so I asked her to teleport me to the supermarket. Didn't get very far because of the force field though.

I just had a fun dream. I was in one of those funny BBC Mystery shows. I was part of a team of investigators. I was the American of the group, added to the story to give it variety. We had just solved who did it, when a bunch of our fellow investigators went into a building and we killed in an IRA bombing attack. I had been waiting outside in an army truck with an army truck driver. There was one survivor who we helped get into the truck before driving away. The driver and I were up front. Only the windscreen was only on one side of the truck, so I couldn't see where we were going, except for a small peep hole. As we were driving away we started discussing the differences in American and British accents. When trying he actually had a very good fake American accent, except when he said "motorcoat". Then I explained I think part of the reason why the accent for that word doesn't sound quite right is it isn't really an American word. I asked him what it meant so that I could supply him with an alternative, more American word when the alarm clock interrupted him and woke me up.

Now I will never know what he meant.

I dreamt of my old friend White Dactyl last night. He was running from the authorities again. Big surprise; though it was for a noble cause, as always. He had developed this super natural ability to freeze people, and bullets in their tracks for a short period of time. This is an odd thing for a Data Scout to pick up.