I'm good at catching large animals.

With my purse strapped across my shoulder, I carefully swam through the clear, blue waters off a Caribbean beach. I didn't want my bag to get wet, but I didn't want to sacrifice the swim.

I stopped to tread water at a spot so deep that, though in clear water, I couldn't see the bottom. That's when the unexpected happened.

An orca -- 29 feet in length, I guessed -- swam right to me. Naturally, I grabbed it by the tail. I held its tail up out of the water and the whale struggled to free itself.

"Not before I take a picture!" I declared.

But I realized: one can't take a camera out of one's purse while using two hands to restrain a whale by its tail. If I wanted a photo of it, I'd have to let go of the whale. But letting go meant I might not get that photo.

A risk I'd have to take.

So, I let go. The whale swam away before I could take a picture.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

Had this dream last night.

I rub elbows with celebrities.

Once, in college, my mom, my friend Kim and I went to a screening of and lecture about a movie version of Les Miserables.

We sat down in a small classroom that had movie theater-style seating. At the front of the room, there was a TV and a table at which the lecture's special guests -- the movie's cast -- sat. Among them? Whoopi Goldberg, Bette Midler, Whitney Houston and a girl named Danielle who was in my class in first grade.

As soon as the movie ended, I went to the bathroom. Upon my return, I found my mom sitting with with Whitney Houston. I told her how much I loved her tapes when I was a little kid.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream upon waking up on July 10, 2007. I have never seen Les Miserables.

My friends eat weird things.

When I answered her phone call, Kim seemed distressed.

"Pat got a D.R.E.," she said.

"A D.R.E.?" I asked. "Do you mean a DUI?"

"No," she said. "A D.R.E."

"What's a D.R.E.?" I asked.

"Driving while eating marijuana," she said.

What, I thought, does one say to comfort a friend whose boyfriend was caught eating marijuana behind the wheel?

"It's ok," Kim said. "I told my mom about it and she said it's not a big deal. Everyone does that."

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream upon waking up on March 27, 2009.

My classmates pass me notes.

I climbed a ladder made of iron and crawled through the window to which the ladder led. Inside, I settled in at my desk in the Catholic school's classroom. During class, somebody passed me a note. I opened it.

"Words I Think Are Funny," it said at the top of a list on the sheet of paper. The words beneath were as follows:

"Neverending."

"but I'm a doctor."

These aren't funny at all, I thought.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream on April 9, 2008. I've never been a student at a Catholic school. And I've never crawled through a window.

I go to school at Starbucks.

I walked into a classroom inside a local Starbucks. My teacher, Mrs. Lewis -- the same one who taught my middle school history classes --stood at the front of the room with a book in hand.

Danny, a classmate, took a seat and Mrs. Lewis approached him. She kissed his head.

"Eww," she said. "That smells gross."

And Danny got depressed.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream on Dec. 16, 2008. While Danny exists, he has never been a classmate. To this day, however, I see him at Starbucks all the time.

I get chased by the living dead.

After an office party, I packed up to hit the road for the day. On my way out, I realized I left a stack of books inside the building. I went back inside to retrieve them.

The office was empty, except for one editor, me and a room full of Halloween costumes, cardboard cut-outs of characters from horror flicks and a set of tables covered with medieval weaponry. While the editor and I tried to fit all my books into a bag, a guy and a girl walked in -- both blonde.

"I'd like to subscribe to the newspaper," one of them said.

"I'm sorry, but no one is here right now who can help you with that," I said. "So you'll have to call or come back tomorrow, earlier in the day."

The two weren't satisfied by my answer, but they didn't argue. Instead, they took the liberty of walking further into the building to explore, convinced I was lying to them.

"Seriously," I said. "No one here can help you subscribe to the paper."

Neither acknowledged me. I followed them, reminding them all the while that there was no one there who could help them. While they explored, their heads of hair turned black and so did their clothes. We passed a table of cakes, left over from the party. The couple dug in with their hands before meandering into the room full of Halloween and weapons. Finally, the couple left. I walked home after that.

While I walked, I passed the scene of a car accident. Out the broken window of an overturned yellow Honda Civic crawled the now-dark haired girl who had earlier refused to leave my office. Only now, she was dead. And a zombie. Horrified, I hurried home. On the way, I found I was being followed by a pair of guys, one of whom I recognized:

the now-dark haired guy who'd earlier refused to leave my office.

Clearly, I thought, he holds me responsible for the death and zombification of his girlfriend. By the time I walked up to my house, the guys were close behind me, taunting me.

"You won't win this fight, you know. You may as well quit!"

But I walked into the entry through a screen door, and into the house through the front door and locked it behind me. Inside, I told my mom about all that had happened.

"Who is trying to harm my twins?!" she asked, in a fit of fear. I didn't, however, have time to ask her whether it's true that I have a twin of whom I'm unaware. I ran to the front door and swung it open upon realizing I'd locked my dog outside. The dog, brown and scruffy, stood barking at the guys from behind the screen door.

"Rocky," I said to him. "Get in the house!"

He didn't even notice.

"Rocky! ... Wait," I said. "That's not your name. Rocky! Wait. That isn't your name. What is your name?!"

The clock is ticking, I thought, watching the guys find a way to break in through the screen. What is my dog's name? It hit me.

"Ninja!" I shouted. "Get in the house!"

Ninja ran inside.

But for me, it was too late. I froze, terrified and face to face with the guys who had followed me home.

"Mom!" I mouthed. No voice. I tried again. "Mom!" I whispered. No good, as she couldn't hear me. Finally, I found my voice. "Mom!" I yelled.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream upon waking myself up by yelling "Mom" in my sleep at 5:15 a.m. on June 19, 2009. I have never had a dog named Ninja.

I get too close for comfort.

Through the grapevine, I heard that a local radio station would host a meeting of celebrities.

I had to get in on that.

Uninvited, I arrived at the station which looked a lot like a cross between my grandparents' house and the house in which I grew up. While I ate, Zac Efron wandered out of the station and toward the restaurant. I stood up to approach him.

"Wow," I said, as I pulled my camera out from my pants pocket. "This is such a coincidence! Can I get a photo with you?"

"Sure," he said.

So I handed my camera to a stranger. Zac and I stood close, his arm around my shoulder. The stranger snapped the shot and handed the camera back.

"Thank you!" I said. And I looked down to see whether the picture came out nicely.

"Wow," I said to Zac. "I really do not remember biting your face. Can we try this again?"

He agreed, and we did.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream on June 10, 2010.

I really don't like dentists.

The phone rang.

I answered.

"Hello?"

It was my grandpa. His friend Osama bin Laden, a dentist, was visiting, he said, and he and my grandma wanted to bring him over to see our family. We agreed.

While we awaited their arrival, my parents replaced our coffee table with a dentist chair so Dr. bin Laden would be impressed. When the doorbell rang, we lined up single file -- my mom, my dad, my brother and me. And in they walked: Nana, Popop and Osama.

"Who will be first?" Osama asked.

None of us budged. So he pointed at my brother.

"You," he said. "In the chair."

While my brother sat in the dentist chair and opened up his mouth, my family stood mortified. I knew, I thought, that it was a bad idea. I knew Osama was going to hurt my brother.

After a few minutes, Osama backed away from the chair. My brother stood up. He turned toward my family, still standing in single file.

"That," he said,"was the best dental examination of my life!"

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I had this dream in high school.

The most unusual men want to meet me.

I walked through an empty airport with no plans in particular. Around a bend, I headed to the end of a hallway at which I came to a junction.

There, I saw curtains draped across doorways -- one to the right and one to the left. The curtain on the right concealed a wooden tube slide to a lower level of the building. The curtain to the left covered the top of a stairwell that led to the same lower floor as the slide. The slide, I thought, is clearly a trap. So, I took the stairs.

At the bottom, I stepped into a quiet airplane hangar, empty except for a Christmasy cottage, bordered by a fence bedecked by bows -- a display you'd only see surrounding Santa at the mall at Christmastime. Lo and behold, who sat in the middle but Mr. Claus himself.

"Hey you," he said. He invited me toward the cottage. I walked up to him, which is when he hit on me.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

Had this dream last night.

I have delusions.

In my dark house, while a storm rolled in outside, I clung to Christopher -- the love of my life.

My friends didn't like him, and I didn't like them for that. But when the storm hit, I ignored my friends and stuck Christopher into a lunchbox. He and I hunkered down in the garage. Somehow, maybe in a gust of wind, he and I were separated.

Only then did I realize what my friends had long tried to tell me: Christopher was an ice pack.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream on May 27, 2010.

I have psychic powers.

My dad and I took an early morning walk while the sky was still dark. As we walked, we passed a bus stop where the chief of police and an old schoolmate of mine -- we'll call him Rory -- stood among others, waiting for the bus.

Suddenly, psychic powers overcame me. I knew something that I shouldn't and I had to share. So I leaned toward my dad and whispered: "Dad," I said. "Rory is wearing tighty white-ies!"

I expected him to laugh. Instead, my dad looked to the crowd at the corner and did the unthinkable.

"HEY RORY!"

With a red face, and possibly in slow motion, I lunged toward my dad. "Nooooo," I said.

Too late. I couldn't hear what he said, but my dad said something to Rory. Then, Rory came up to me.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "I know, I know. I need new underwear."

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream on July 6, 2010.

I investigate murders.

My mom and I pulled up to the police station to peruse the evidence collected at the scene of a murder. The evidence, much to our advantage as investigators, included the entire scene of the crime: two cars with the deceased inside, sitting up and clearly stuffed by a taxidermist. Among the victims? A long haired dachshund. A baby. Ronald McDonald. And while we perused, they each came back to life.

Naturally, we took them home with us.

But we knew we had only a matter of time before the police would show up to find out what we'd done to the scene of the crime. I also knew that if we were found out, we'd be accused of tampering with evidence. I tried to convince Ronald McDonald to change his clothes so police wouldn't recognize him, but he refused. So in hopes that it would deter the authorities in case they came looking for him, I put pants and a shirt on a paper towel roll.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream upon waking up on April 1, 2010.

I take cooking classes.

Sarah and I stood at a counter in a cooking show-style kitchen. She and I were two of many in a cooking class. During that particular session, she and I learned to make onion rings and chocolate covered donuts.

After I covered a donut with chocolate, I came close to taking a bite. But it hit me: "It's my sugar free year," I said. "I can't eat this!" So, I handed it to Sarah. She took a bite, swallowed, paused and pointed at the donut.

"You know what this needs?" she said. "Cheese." So she went to the fridge, took out a slice of cheese, put it on top of the donut and ate it.

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

I originally documented this dream upon waking up on Feb. 15, 2010.

Get ready.

While I walked the hall, my shoes clicked on the off-white terazzo floors and echoed off the cream colored walls. The lights were so bright there weren't shadows. My dad, my brother and I turned to the right, where a crowd of empty chairs in an otherwise empty room waited for us. We sat on three in the front row and faced a burlap curtain that covered a wall.

The curtain opened, exposing a window almost the size of the wall it interrupted, and revealed the outside: the surface of the moon. And there, in space suits, stood my mom and an otherwise anonymous Jamaican man.

Then, I woke up.

It was morning, sometime in 1988. I was hysterical (You know you'd cry if you were three and your mom were on the moon!) until my mom reminded me: it was just a dream. That, friends, was just the beginning. Because in all the years since, I've had the strangest, most vivid and unforgettable dreams that I've decided it's time to share with the world via this blog.

Get ready!