Dream Marathon

I am in some giant building with wood floors. There is a dog falling through trap doors in the floors. A girl is following him. Going through the last one would mean a fall to the street. However, inside that floor, just under the opening, there is a bad guy in there somehow. She shines a flashlight down to try to see what is going on. Some guy down on the street yells about the light shining down on him.


I am with two other guys- one is Gibbs, from NCIS. We are carrying big rock mural thing, trying to get it to the right spot before dawn. If sunlight shines on us while we are carrying it, we would turn to stone forever. We are going up cobblestone streets past walls covered with stone murals- it is very quaint and old-fashioned. The momen dawn is about to happen, Gibbs yells, "Drop!" We all fall to the ground, saving ourselves from turning into stone. As far as everyone going by on the street can tell though, they think we are a pile of stones. We have to wait til the next night to try and finish bringing the mural to our destination to save something.


I am at a store in a mall, when I notice a black thing on the floor with a blinking red light. Only one other guy has noticed it so far, and then me. I yell, "There's a bomb!" Everyone evacuates, and waits far out in the parking lot. There is a plastic tented around and over the parking lot to maintain the shrapnell. A teacher lady is explaining how she has tested gas fires to try and keep everyone safe. Lastly Monica Geller comes out of the store, the teacher tells her to get out here, and she just says, "No, I'm going back in for my colors." No one says anything, so I yell, "No! Run!" She turns and runs at a 45 degree angle from the door, just as the place explodes. We turn and hunch over, covering our necks. I feel tiny glass shards hitting me. Then, it is over, and people are leaving. I am talking to a friend from high school and some other Indian guy. We are sharing cds and music. The Indian boy saying something about having me do pictures for him.



I am on the computer at my childhood home, setting up a new computer for someone. I put in a program, and it warns me that some malware has turned itself on. Whoops. I'll have to figure out how to turn that off. I'm listening to Sweet Devotchka, and my dad is yelling up the stairs at me for listening to "Soviet" music.



My Dad is a real estate agent. We are out at some rural lakefront property he is trying to sell. He is throwing rocks down in the water to make the slope walkable and the beach stable, while talking on his cell phone to someone who might want to buy it.