* The Sandman's Dream Journal o/***

I don't know where I was coming from; I forget, but I was in a shopping cart or something, cruising down the street and up a hill so fast that I flew threw the air.

I had to lean back or else I would fall forwards and crash. I landed in a restaurant.

--

I was in my house alone. Three women came in without knocking or anything, and started running around. At least two of them were really cute, but it was still kind of disturbing. Then a fourth girl, a black girl came in. One of them said they were just checking the place out and looking for something. Then they left and my wife came home.

--

I was at some kind of party. There were escalators going up to another level.

As if it were an instructional video, I saw how the escalators could take small tanks up, and if they weighed too much, they would get a jolting bump to push them up to the next step to help them out.

Then, I was going up the escalator. There was a heavy-set black lady in front of me who couldn't make it up. I couldn't understand why when the escalator would help her.

Then I was in another room trying to explain what had happened to a bunch of people who were socializing. I started explaining how the escalator could help bump up a tank, but this big lady couldn't make it.

I started to explain how that was what happened in a dream I had. I was getting confused if it was real or I had dreamed it. Casually but quickly, everyone started going outside. They left me feeling really stupid on the couch.

Then there was a guy who rode his bike everywhere. He was like super bicycle man with a blue, yellow, and white spandex outfit and matching helmet. He did it by choice, but Work was about 40 miles away, and when I told him I couldn't believe he rode his bike there, he rolled his eyes because it was so far.

We walked off talking about some stuff; I forget what. Eventually I was going to let him go, but then I saw a gun at his side. I asked what kind it was. I forget what kind it was, but he let me see it. I removed the action the way you would remove a camera from a tripod. Strange.

Then I released the mag and looked at the bullets. I said, "Hollow-point 40's?" He said, "Yea. It is awesome knowing about guns, isn't it?" I agreed. (I know a little about guns in waking life; not much.)

He finally left.