<?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-3113016</id><updated>2011-04-21T14:09:56.956-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog of Dreams</title><subtitle type='html'>This is where I will tell you about my dreams. Nothing more; nothing less...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>36</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-82773336</id><published>2002-10-09T23:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-10-09T23:27:02.973-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #35&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joel and I were sitting at a small, round table in someone's back yard. We were wearing long, black robes with hoods and black and white face paint. Some girl came up towards us wearing a long, red robe and hood and wearing red face paint. She also had yellow, glowing eyes. Her face was more like a mask than a face. Then a couple of guys drove up in an old pick up truck, looked at us and backed up to leave. Then the girl went after them saying, "No, come back! We're not having a seance. We're just sitting around!" and as she began to chase them, they slammed on their breaks and backed up as fast as they could and hit her. She flipped into the bed of the truck (which was full of bags of trash) and they quickly took off. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-82773336?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/82773336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/82773336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_10_01_archive.html#82773336' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-80257472</id><published>2002-08-14T22:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-08-14T22:39:30.663-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #34&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a woman running through a field in a wedding dress and a man with a fishing rod standing along the side of the field. He cast the rod and wraped the woman up in the line. As he reeled her in, she lept across the field in a slow, dreamy fashion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-80257472?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/80257472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/80257472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_08_01_archive.html#80257472' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-78616003</id><published>2002-07-06T09:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-08-14T22:40:17.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #33&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in my old high school waiting to get my grade from my last Biology test (my college Biology class). My teacher came in and showed me my score. A 42! So I asked her when we were going to have to final so I could replace that grade with the final and she said, "We're not going to have a final now. It's going to be a three page paper." But she wouldn't tell me what we had to write about. I was really ticked, but I couldn't tell her off because she had vanished. So I started walking around in the halls and saw Jeff, a guy I graduated high school with, and he was still in high school because he kept failing a class. Then I decided to go find my Biology teacher, but she had gone to Savannah. So Joel, Stephen, Jess, some guy we didn't know and myself started walking down the road barefoot to Savannah to go find her. This of course wasn't my idea. I tried to inform everyone else how far away Savannah was and that it would take days upon days to walk there, but nobody listened. They just kept climbing over these big fences that kept appearing in front of us. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-78616003?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/78616003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/78616003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_07_01_archive.html#78616003' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-78506405</id><published>2002-07-03T09:30:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-07-03T09:30:01.943-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #32&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family was eating supper at this huge table and I was on the phone talking to Jennifer. I had been talking to her for a couple of hours and my food was getting cold. For some reason our phone messed up and dropped my call. I was going to call Jennifer back, but I couldn't remember her phone number. I was upset because I felt it was rude to hang up on someone without finishing your coversation even if it wasn't my fault. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-78506405?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/78506405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/78506405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_07_01_archive.html#78506405' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-78506300</id><published>2002-07-03T09:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-07-03T09:26:23.990-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #31&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joel was graduating at our house and everyone in his class was in our livingroom waiting to march out. The girl in the front kept talking about how nervous she was. I went outside and the Byroms were out there standing around. Gina drove up in her mom's car and slammed on the breaks nearly killing her mom and I. She got out of the car and I hopped in and said, "let me see what's wrong with this thing." I drove it down the parking lot a ways, turned around and sped towards Gina and her mom, slammed on the breaks and skid about 20 feet. I got out and looked at the back left tire and said, "There's your problem. Your tire is gone." Jennifer was standing in the corner. I looked at her and then woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-78506300?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/78506300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/78506300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_07_01_archive.html#78506300' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-78225492</id><published>2002-06-26T11:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-06-26T11:27:25.420-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>This is not a dream, just a test...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-78225492?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/78225492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/78225492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_06_01_archive.html#78225492' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-75142198</id><published>2002-04-07T19:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2002-04-10T00:32:49.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h6&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dream #30&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was talking to a Mexican construction guy and we decided to go have lunch. He climbed in his beat up, blue truck and I got in my SUV and we headed off towards the restaurant. A few miles down the road we came to a traffic light. The Mexican made a U turn and I thought, "Where the heck is he going?" So at the next light I made a U turn and tried to catch up with him, but I couldn't find him. So I pulled into the parking lot of the bank and got out of my SUV. As I was walking towards the bank, I noticed my high school friend Jason sitting in a truck and this big, black guy got out and said, "I'll be right back." Then I started talking to Jason for a few minutes and the guy came back and said, "Let's go." and off they went and didn't even say goodbye. So I turned back towards the bank and started to go in. But then it changed to like a movie scene and it was like I was watching TV and this guy robbed the bank and ran out the door of the second level and unloaded his gun on the huge crowed that had gathered outside the bank. And as he ran down the stairs he passed the trash cans where he threw all the money that he had just stolen. Then the crowed dispersed and once everyone was gone, the garbage man came to pick up the garbage, but it wasn't really the garbage man. It was the bank robber's friend. And he grabbed all the money out of the garbage can and didn't even bother to take any of the trash. Then I went into the bank to get some money, but it was closed. So I knocked on the door and they let me in. The bank tellers were Elmer Barnes and Ms. Lana from "The Gospel Bill Show". Ms. Lana gave me the amount of money I wanted and then I left. When I got outside Joel and Josh were standing around and I walked up to them and started talking to them. As I was flipping through my money I noticed that she gave me a fake $5.00 that had Henry Winkler ("The Fonz") from Happy Days on it and he was smiling real big and holding up three fingers. So once I noticed this, I went back into the bank and told the teller about it. So she took the phony money and gave me five dollars worth of baseball cards, which I happily took. Then she directed me to a huge room with a huge table with really nice plates and glasses and all that sort of stuff. So I walked in and my mom was in there pouring wine in all the glasses. When Ms. Lana came in, my mom started talking to her. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-75142198?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/75142198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/75142198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_04_01_archive.html#75142198' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-9110013</id><published>2002-01-27T22:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-01-27T22:52:16.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #29&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in the nucleus of a cell watching RNA produce strands of proteins over and over and over and over again for hours. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-9110013?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/9110013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/9110013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_01_01_archive.html#9110013' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-9109938</id><published>2002-01-27T22:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-01-27T22:53:51.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #28&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joel, Josh, me and a few other people I didn't know were on a ski trip with Billy. It was kind of like a youth group thing and Josh was talking to Billy and telling him how he should run his youth group like Josh knew all about how to run a youth group. Billy had 5 iris' and he would roll his eyes back in his head and you could see his "spare" ones. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-9109938?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/9109938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/9109938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_01_01_archive.html#9109938' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-8684273</id><published>2002-01-14T13:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-01-14T13:14:31.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #27&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A million things all happened at once. Everything swirling around me in a big, crazy blur. And as quickly as it came, it left and I was sitting alone in a dark room at a table with a pen and notebook. I opened the notebook and on the first page I wrote "quickly". Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-8684273?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/8684273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/8684273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_01_01_archive.html#8684273' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-8498496</id><published>2002-01-07T20:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2002-01-07T20:25:36.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #26&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking around my college campus just strolling along holding some books, when I noticed that everyone there was dressed just like me! I came to find out that everyone there had to wear uniforms which were really just khaki coveralls. A while later I left the campus and headed over to church. I got there just in time to bid Page farewell. Her and her mom and dad (who wasn't her real dad) were all going to California so she could be a superstar. But before they went to California, they wanted to get a family portrait made. So they all put on their bear costumes, got in their car and went to Olan Mills. Jennifer, Boo, their parents, Joel, my parents, Rachel, William, Marsha, Michelle, her parents and I were all standing around in the parking lot waiting for them to return. They finally did come back and got out of the car. They grabbed Rachel and started doing a song and dance for her. They were in the middle of their performance and I walked up to them, lept in the air and did a 540° spin and proceeded to ask Page's dad if I could wear his bear costume. He said, "Sure! Let me go get my other one and you can wear this one!" So he returned wearing a salmon colored bear costume and I put on the brown one he was wearing before (but I never put on the head piece). After a while the bear costume became a bit hot. So I unzipped it part way... But it was still too hot, so I unzipped it all the way. Then it hit me. I wasn't sure if I was wearing any clothes under the bear costume. I looked and yes, I was wearing something... My pajamas. Green shorts and a t-shirt. Then I woke up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-8498496?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/8498496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/8498496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2002_01_01_archive.html#8498496' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-7837005</id><published>2001-12-11T11:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-12-11T11:20:09.813-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #25&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff and Danielle were having a family Christmas party at their house, but it wasn't really their house. It was some run down, junky place. A bunch of family were there and Jeff and Danielle just up and left. I got hungry waiting for them to come back so I ate most of the food. When they returned, they were really mad at me for not waiting on them to come back. So they took me to a back alley where a bunch of people were walking around. This older Japanese man walked up to them and asked if I was the one. They told him I was. He walked over to me and handed me a case with twelve needles in it. He said, "Here are your weapons." Then he walked over to a young Japanese woman and handed her a case with twelve needles in it. Then he explained the rules to us. All of the needles had to be well planted into our opponent. It didn't matter where as long as it was stuck there firmly. I HATE needles and I got really scared. Then out of the crowd of people who were busily walking by, this huge black guy with a bunch of scars on his arms came walking towards me. He said, "Man, don't worry about it. It's just like shooting up!" And I said, "Well at least you get something out of those needles!!!" All the while, my opponent is just looking at me with that "I'm going to kill you" look while she admires her needles. Then I turned to the old Japanese man and said, "I can't do this! I am NOT going to do this!" And he said, "Ah, but you must... &lt;b&gt;Let the games begin!&lt;/b&gt;" Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-7837005?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7837005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7837005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_12_01_archive.html#7837005' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-7804640</id><published>2001-12-10T10:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-12-10T10:32:42.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #24&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking around Wal-Mart with Boo and a couple of girls I didn't know. I noticed that Boo had a barcode tattoo on his arm. I asked him why he had it and he said, "Well, I figure it's easier to have people scan my arm than it is for me to pull out my credit card every time I want to buy something. Also, I won't lose it as easily." I just looked at him kind of strange. One of the girls that was with us found a metal brush that she wanted. We all went through the checkout with her and then headed to a house. Not one I've ever been to. We were sitting around in the living room and the girl that bought the brush got up and went in the kitchen for something. I grabbed her metal brush and started brushing my hair with it. (I still had long hair in this dream) Soon I found out that this brush was not to use on your head. It ripped a bunch of my hair out and I was trying to get it all out of the brush before the girl came back in the room. I heard her coming back in and I only had about half of the hair cleaned out of it. So I got off the couch and walked down the hallway so she wouldn't find me cleaning my hair out of her brush. The hallway was dark and as I kept walking I noticed that I was soon surrounded by gang of demon possessed praying mantis. They glowed in the dark and were kind of transparent at the same time. I got scared and ran through the first door on my right and shut it behind me. The praying mantis just walked through the door so I ran back out of the room into another one (all this time I'm still trying to clean my hair out of the brush), but they just walked through that door too. I was beginning to really freak out and I hit one with the brush and knocked it's head off. But that didn't kill it... So I ran back out of that room and back into the living room. I looked at the girl and said, "Here's your brush." And then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-7804640?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7804640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7804640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_12_01_archive.html#7804640' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-7804358</id><published>2001-12-10T10:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-12-10T10:33:23.000-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #23&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was standing over the bathroom sink trimming my goatee. I kind of got carried away and ended up shaving my entire face!!!! Sideburns and all! I felt really stupid without my goatee and was apprehensive to even leave the bathroom because we had company. But eventually I did come out and I met our company. They were a group of college aged kids that none of us had ever met before. They came into our house and started eating all of our peanut butter. Fortunately there was a tad left in the jar when I got there so I grabbed a couple of slices of bread and stuck them in the toaster. I walked around for a bit and our "company" were talking amongst themselves. I walked back over to the toaster and my toast popped up. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-7804358?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7804358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7804358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_12_01_archive.html#7804358' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-7719562</id><published>2001-12-07T01:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-12-07T01:11:44.006-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #22: maybe one of the shortest dreams yet.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking around in Wal-Mart and as I was strolling along minding my own business, Kansas and Jesse ran right by me almost running in to me. Then I looked down the way and saw Lisa looking at fabric or something. Then I saw C walking towards Lisa. He was holding Lucy. He said, "Hey Lisa..." and I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-7719562?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7719562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7719562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_12_01_archive.html#7719562' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-7298075</id><published>2001-11-21T12:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-11-21T12:50:24.450-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #21&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff, Danielle, Rachel, Joel, my Mom and Dad and I were all sitting around in the "play room" in our old house talking. After a while Isaac (my 1 1/2 year old nephew) came in and was walking all around saying, "Hi mom!" to everybody. He walked past me and I picked him up and said, "I'm not your mom! Say 'uncle'". He said, "Uncle Jonathan. If you would excuse me, I would like to get down now." So I set him down and he went on his merry way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-7298075?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7298075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/7298075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_11_01_archive.html#7298075' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-6882008</id><published>2001-11-05T10:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-11-05T10:17:57.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream # 20: (very) odds and ends&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- &lt;a href="http://www.macygray.com"&gt;Macy Gray&lt;/a&gt; was walking around our house singing&lt;br /&gt;-- Daniel had started making chicken and rice at her house then came over to hang out at our house. Me and Jeff went back over to their house to get something. When we walked in he saw something that looked like someone sleeping on their couch. He said, “What the heck?!?” and then noticed it was just a jacket and some pillows. Then we walked into their kitchen and there was a huge pot on the stove full of rice and whole, frozen chickens (like the ones you buy at the grocery store. Not completely whole with feathers and head and all)&lt;br /&gt;There was much more, but I can’t remember any of it…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-6882008?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6882008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6882008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_11_01_archive.html#6882008' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-6742600</id><published>2001-10-30T19:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2001-10-30T19:09:21.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #19&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joel, Jeff, Michelle (from church) and I were hanging out at my house. We were sitting in Joel's room calling Alicia. She was at the mall. Michelle finally got in touch with her (Alicia just happened to be at the pay phone that Michelle called) and they talked about something. And then all of a sudden, Michelle was Jeff and he was talking to Justin (who replaced Alicia and was now at the mall) on the phone. Since I wasn't using the phone, I went into my room where Stephanie was sitting at my computer playing Solitare. I sat on the floor next to her and we started to talk. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-6742600?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6742600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6742600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6742600' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-6582564</id><published>2001-10-24T12:12:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-24T12:12:07.606-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #18: dream snippet&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joel, Josh and I were walking around a mall type place. Joel kept walking up to random girls and kissing them. One of the girls decided to hang out with us. Joel told her no and we started to leave. We got in our car and she climbed in as well. We sped out to a huge field and got out. She was saying something, and noticed a squirrel running around in the high grass of the field. She said, "I like squirrels." Joel said, "I hate 'em! Why don't you go bother the squirrel!?" We jumped back in the car and left her standing in the field.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-6582564?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6582564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6582564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6582564' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-6377439</id><published>2001-10-16T08:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-16T08:56:23.400-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #17: dream snippet&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in a restaurant with a lady from work and her daughter. All of a sudden Janet (the lady I work with) said, "Oh, it's our turn to play, honey." talking to her daughter. So they got up there and played guitars and sang. It was pretty good. They finished and everyone applauded them. The sat back down to finish their meal with me. Janet started talking and I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-6377439?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6377439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6377439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6377439' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-6377390</id><published>2001-10-16T08:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-16T08:53:17.380-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #16: dream snippet&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was chasing a talking crocodile around and he said, "I'm going to get him! He can't hid from me in that hole!" and he commenced to dive down into this tiny hole in the ground. Of course I followed. It lead in to the stomach of a huge aligator. Then my mom appeared and was talking to me. I grabbed the rope and climbed out of the hole. I asked my mom if she was going to climb out, but "they" (whoever they were) said she had to stay. That made me sad. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-6377390?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6377390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6377390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6377390' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-6261134</id><published>2001-10-11T09:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-10-11T09:31:02.950-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #15: dream snippet&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am wandering around in a parking deck that doubles as a mental ward. There are all of  these insane, psycho people in there. Some of them are all cut up and bloody and the place just has this whole weird feel to it. I'm there trying to find where I parked my car so I can leave. I happen to run into Ron (a guy I work with) and he starts talking a bunch of junk like he usually does. He seems to know some of the people that work there and knows his way around, so I follow him for a while hoping we will get away from all the crazies. Eventually, after Ron talkes to 20 people about the lottery, we find my car. I thank him, get in and drive away. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-6261134?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6261134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/6261134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_10_01_archive.html#6261134' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5973657</id><published>2001-09-28T09:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-28T09:31:30.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #14&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I was driving around in a quaint little town with Frenchie. We were going to a yard sale. When we got there was just walked around and looked at everything and out of nowhere comes Charlie. He starts talking to us about how he has to find some stuff for his wife. He hops into his big old truck and starts to leave. We get back in my Explorer and follow him. As we are driving down the roads, there are terrible pot holes all over the place (like big enough for your car to fall into). Charlie is driving like a mad man and we are trying to keep up. Soon we drive right into one of those huge pot holes. I was a bit upset but just backed up out of it and kept following Charlie. After all of the crazy driving, we end up back at the yard sale, go in to the person's house (we didn't know them) and have lemonade. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5973657?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5973657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5973657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5973657' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5931055</id><published>2001-09-26T12:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-26T12:54:35.283-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #13&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting around in a log cabin type place with a bunch of people from church and the pastor's son was there giving some of  the people these real expensive Christmas gifts... But it wasn't Christmas. It was October. Stephen got a brand new amp and a guitar (a telecaster I think). I got a six string banjo that had goat skin on the front of the body and it was terribly out of tune. Joel didn't get anything and neither did Alicia. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5931055?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5931055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5931055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5931055' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5844422</id><published>2001-09-22T11:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-26T12:54:59.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #12&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there was this new couple that was moving in down the road. They didn't even have their house built or anything; just bought some land. So we decided to welcome them. Joel, Stephanie and I started walking down there and when we got there we noticed that the drug dealer guy and his kids from our old neigborhood were out there cooking hamburgers for them. So we went over there and started talking to them. Stephanie started helping them cook and then me and Joel left. Then we came back with our dad and saw everyone, but kept walking on by all the way down to the end of the road. We got to the end and then turned around. On our way back, this deer with horns (not antlers, horns) came flying in front of us. Then it started making circles around us and this other deer started following it. After it circled a few times it charged at me and tried to impale me with it's horns. I grabbed it by the horns and pushed it away. It circled again and tried to impale me again. Once again, I grabbed it's horns and tossed it to the side. It made one final circle and charged me again. This time I grabbed it by the horns and ripped one of them off and the deer ran away. So we started walking back to the "cookout" and I was looking at the horn that I had ripped off the deer and Joel said, "Hey, let me see it!" So I let him see it. We kept walking and out of the blue Joel turned around and jabbed the horn into my stomach! I fell down all bloody and my dad said, "Joel! That's not nice!" Then I pulled the horn out of my stomach and got up and we kept walking. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5844422?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5844422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5844422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5844422' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5825057</id><published>2001-09-21T10:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-21T10:39:55.023-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #11&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and my family were playing in our back yard. It had flooded and we were all sloshing around in the water. There was a baby there (I don't know who's he was) that was crawling around. The ended up slipping and falling face first in this big mud hole. He started crying and I was laughing at him because he had mud all over his face. It just looked funny. Then my mom ran up the stairs and in to the house to answer the phone. It was Stephanie. She told her that I wasn't there and hung up. I got really mad at her and asked her why she did that. And as she began to reply, I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5825057?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5825057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5825057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5825057' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5736890</id><published>2001-09-17T09:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-17T09:38:09.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #10&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking up a grassy hill, Joel was ahead of me, and I said, "Hey Joel! Check out this snake!" He came over and then we were in our living room chasing the snake around. We had quite the grassy living room. My dad came in to see what we were doing. I caught the snake a couple of times and let it go each time because Joel wanted to catch it too. He caught it and let it go so I could catch it again. I caught it again, but this time when I grabbed it, it whipped around and planted it's fangs (which it had on the top and the bottom) into my right shin. Joel squeezed the snake's head until it's mouth opened so we wouldn't rip my skin. I looked at the bite marks (no blood) and thought, "That looks weird." Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5736890?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5736890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5736890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5736890' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5588098</id><published>2001-09-10T08:26:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-10T08:26:25.256-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #9: a very short dream&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was driving down the road and saw a turtle shell on the side of the road. So I slammed on my breaks and put my car in reverse. I was kind of off the road so I figured I wouldn't get smashed, but I was wrong. Some idiot came flying over the hill while I was driving backwards down the road. He smashed into my back end. I got mad because he also ran over the turtle shell.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5588098?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5588098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5588098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5588098' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5496152</id><published>2001-09-05T10:33:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-05T10:34:25.000-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #8&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was warming up with Ken Griffey, Jr. before our big game and he was talking to me about his old roommate. He said he was really cool and told me I should give him a call. His name was Phil. (His last name was slurred and blurred.) So I walked up the hill to where the phone was and gave Phil a call. His roommate answered and I said, "Is Phil there?" and he said, "Hold on. &lt;b&gt;HEY PHIL! YOU GOT SOME CHICK ON THE LINE!&lt;/b&gt;" and then he tried to be sneaky and change his voice and keep talking to me. He said, "Speak to me, baby." and I said, "I'm not a girl. I don't even sound like a girl." and then Phil grabbed the phone. "Hello?", he said. I said, "Hey, is this Phil?" He said, "Yeah, who is this?" I said, "What's your last name?" he said, "(it was once again slurred and blurred)". I said, "Excuse me?" and he said it again and I still couldn't understand him. So I hung up and started walking around the streets of a little town at dusk. It was damp and dreary. I wandered around there for quite a while. Then I Ken Griffey, Jr. came up to me and told me to check out Phil's blog. I said, "Okay." and I just walked into one of the houses in the town and got on their computer and checked out his blog. I think it was dumb, but I can't remember what was on it. Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5496152?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5496152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5496152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5496152' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5474717</id><published>2001-09-04T09:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-04T09:55:39.720-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #7&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was standing around in the kitchen with my mom, dad and older brother. They were boiling a big pot of meat. I started poking the meat with a knife and my dad got really mad at me and told me that I had ruined it. So I told him I would go to the store and buy more. So I put on my jacket and my shoes and went out the back door. I steppd onto the back porch and Joel was playing on the beach (which was our back yard. The ocean came about 5 feet away from our house). He was looking at a sand crab and a clam. They were friends. But then the crab got really hungry and started chasing the clam around and around on our back porch. The clam was yelling at the crab saying, "I thought you were my friend! You shouldn't eat me! No! Stop it!" But the sand crab continued to chase the clam around and finally caught him. With some work, he pried the clam open and commenced to eating him. The clam screamed, "Noooo!!! Don't eat the brain!", but the sand crab ate his brain and the rest of him as well. As I turned to leave, I awoke.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5474717?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5474717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5474717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5474717' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5453623</id><published>2001-09-03T09:11:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-09-03T09:11:02.283-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #6&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joel, Josh, Jodi and I were walking around at this &lt;b&gt;huge&lt;/b&gt; music festival thing and we started just wandering around. We ended up getting in to a building that was for lunatics. We were stuck there for a while because we couldn't figure out how the elevators worked. Some of them would only go to certain floors and others would always go to the wrong floors. Some of them would come up and then leave without you. One of them was just a big slab of cement. It came up and Joel and Jodi got on it and when I tried to get on it, it flew down to the bottom. So I was stuck way up on some floor for a while. We continued doing this crazy elevator thing for a real long time and eventually found our way out and back to the festival. But when we got out it was like 3am and I couldn't find Jodi. So Josh and Joel saw a group of people waiting in some line and said she would probably be over there. So I went over there to look for her. When I got there I discovered that the line was to buy tickets to look at a bunch of fish in a tank. But it wasn't going to start until the next afternoon (These people really wanted to see those fish). Besides, I overheard the ticket seller guy talking on the phone and he had found out that they were sold out already. I didn't see Jodi and didn't feel like waiting in line just to find out I couldn't buy a ticket, so I kept walking around. I saw some people throwing a football back and forth so I got in their way and deflected the ball with my hand as it came by. Then I kept walking. I walked up back stage where Waterdeep was playing and told Don to start singing &lt;i&gt;"Eating Goober Peas"&lt;/i&gt;, which he did. Quite a few times. Then Josh came and got me and said that that song scared the crowd. Then he told me that Jodi was over at tent one. I said, "Where?" and he pointed and said, "Over there." Then I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5453623?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5453623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5453623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_09_01_archive.html#5453623' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5319651</id><published>2001-08-27T10:07:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-27T10:07:16.886-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #5: dream snippet&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joel, Josh, Stephanie and I were walking around the mall and we walked by this guy we knew from a church we used to go to. He was sitting on a bench. Josh walked by him and said, &lt;i&gt;"Hey, that guy looks like that stupid, Christian guy we don't like from church."&lt;/i&gt; The guy laughed at him and we laughed at him and said, &lt;i&gt;"That &lt;b&gt;is&lt;/b&gt; the stupid, Christian guy we don't like from church."&lt;/i&gt; Then I woke up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5319651?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5319651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5319651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5319651' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5191246</id><published>2001-08-20T09:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-20T09:21:47.056-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #4: an even shorter dream&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was lying on my bed listening to a Waterdeep boot and Don was talking. He was cussing his head off and I was thinking, "What in the world?!??!" Then I got up and noticed that my hair was long again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5191246?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5191246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5191246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5191246' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5143881</id><published>2001-08-17T09:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-17T09:18:23.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;h6&gt;&lt;b&gt;Dream #3: a very short dream&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and my family pulled in to the church driveway. As we were getting out, we noticed there was an old, dead, black man sitting in a chair at the front entrance to the church. There was a young, black woman standing next to him crying. They were going to have his funeral that morning instead of having our normal church service. When Joel walked by the guy, his eyes opened, he leaned up and gasped. Then he shut his eyes again and leaned back in to the chair. That kind of startled me, but then he got up and started walking around talking to people and I was okay with that. He started talking to Joel (giving him advice) and said, "Don't you ever..." I woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5143881?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5143881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5143881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5143881' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5124141</id><published>2001-08-16T10:04:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-16T10:04:19.846-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #2&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie's friend came in to town to visit. We met him and then he left for a while. He came back looking like a mad man. He had planted explosives all around the warehouse type building we were in. He was holding a Bible and some long wires. We stopped him (somehow) from blowing the whole place up. Then it got a bit vague. I think he died somehow. Maybe someone killed him? Next thing I know, Stephanie and I are sitting there looking at the Bible her friend had been holding earlier. He had bought it from &lt;a href="http://www.samsclub.com"&gt;Sam's Club&lt;/a&gt; and wrote some girls name in it in the "Presented to:" space and then her parent's names in the "From:" space and he dated it and everything. Strange thing was that I couldn't read any of it. It was just squiggly lines. I touched Stephanie's guitar-calloused fingers then awoke...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5124141?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5124141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5124141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5124141' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3113016.post-5123542</id><published>2001-08-16T09:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2001-08-16T09:27:12.180-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;&lt;h6&gt;Dream #1&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josh, Joel and I are in a mine type place just standing around talking. Josh's huge anaconda is resting quietly over in the shadows. Josh's dad comes in and starts fussing at Josh for leaving his anaconda out. He was angry because it was out and it had eaten a horse a week ago and it still hadn't digeseted (there was this huge horse shaped lump in it's middle). So Josh's dad starts dragging the anaconda out of the shadows and outside to put it in it's cage. I follow him outside and while I am walking around a tree I notice there is a smaller snake (probably about 5 ft. long) coiled up in the grass. But I didn't get to observe it for very long because the giant squid monster was descending from the sky trying to kill me. I run around the tree to escape it. Josh's anaconda is crawling on a tree limb upside down using it's catapilar like legs... I wake up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3113016-5123542?l=blogofdreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5123542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3113016/posts/default/5123542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://blogofdreams.blogspot.com/2001_08_01_archive.html#5123542' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01170644180119844604</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></entry></feed>
