Guest post: Sarah's dream.

This dream comes to us from the brain of my friend Sarah:

"I am sitting at a table on an outdoor patio at a cafe in Los Angeles. With me is an Asian woman who I don't know very well, but she registers in the dream as a friend. We're drinking chocolate cappuccinos, and we see Barats and Bereta walk up and sit at a table a few feet away. I have a huge crush on Barats, so I'm trying to look my best and get him to notice me. Out of nowhere, this fat, punk-type guy, Frank, comes up and starts to hand out thick cigarettes that are shaped like champagne bottles. They are also completely white and look more like joints, but they register in the dream as cigarettes. He's going from table to table, handing out cigarettes, and I'm getting aggravated with him because he's blocking my view of Barats and Bereta. Frank also scoops the foam off the top of my cappuccino and plops it on the table, which further aggravates me because the foam has all manner of chocolate sprinkles, chocolate dust, and chocolate syrup on it, and I wanted to eat it. He also does the same with the foam on my friend's cappuccino, but she doesn't seem to care. Frank then disappears, and it becomes night. I look up, and there's a hologram of Thomas the Tank Engine in the night sky.

"I hate Thomas the Tank Engine!" I say. "No matter what they did on that show it was always super super super super super gay."

"That's not how it works!" my friend responded, annoyed. "Let me go inside and call you."

I pull out my cell phone and wait for her call, but it never comes. All of a sudden, a G-Chat screen pops up in front of me and on it is a message from my friend: "I'm at a pay phone that doesn't get good reception."

Then, I woke up."

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Sarah had this dream last night. Check out her hilarious blogs here and here.

My mechanic steals my jewelry.

I noticed my broken necklace at the bottom of a paper bag.

"I should get this fixed," I said.

So I called the number for a jewelry repairman who turned out to be the same guy who changes the oil in my car. He showed up and spent some time alone with the necklace in another room. He got quiet, so I got concerned. I walked into that room to check on him.

Empty.

The guy and my necklace were gone. He stole it.

I was livid.

"You can get another necklace," somebody told me.

"I didn't even like that necklace," I said. "It isn't what's missing that bothers me. I'm mad because somebody stole from me."

Then, I woke up.

- - - -

Had this dream last night.

I have to take the pain.

In a seat at a salon with a plain white floor, I watched a woman prepare a thick needle with thick, black thread.

She was to sew half my face to the face of a woman who had lost function in half of her's. After she numbed the functional side of the other woman's face, she leaned toward my face to start sewing.

"HEY." I said. "How come you numbed her face but you aren't numbing mine?"

She paused.

"I can't," she said. "And it will sting, but just a little!"

And then I woke up.

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Omg. Seriously, brain? I had this dream last night.