What the?

As if on cue from reading Randy's journal, last night I dreamt some messed up junk.

It started off that I was at some big concert somewhere on campus. The stage was set up the same (and I was standing in the same relative location) as Texas Revue, at which I took a ton of really awful pics a few weeks ago, but I was under the impression that it was Weezer who'd just finished the set. So I hope off stage and I'm walking toward the back of this concert hall, when I see the bassist, who was actually a tall, dark-skinned girl, coming toward me. "Hey, Matt Wright," she beams as she put her arm around my shoulder. I'm looking up at her--she was probably four inches taller than me--trying to figure out who she is. She looks an awful lot like Kevin's girlfriend, Stephanie, but it's not her. "Aw, you don't remember me," she says, still walking with her arm around my shoulder. "Christa told you my name two different times."

"What the fuck?" I'm thinking, but she's hot, so I put my arm around her waist and play along. "Oh, I was just thinking how hot the bassist was during the set." Even in my dreams I got no game.

We're walking up toward some kind of gift shop thing, and she says, "I need to get cleaned up real quick." As she's walking into a bathroom door, she turns around, leans her head out the door, and says, "Looks like we're going to take off real soon, so I won't have much time when I get done." Then she adds hastily, "So don't ask me out," right as the door closes.

Confused, I go lie down in a bed that's in the giftshop for some reason, and right before I fall asleep, I see a guy who looks like Kevin, but is not Kevin, come and fetch Not-Stephanie to get on out of there. Next thing I know, I'm trying to wake up in the dream (That's always weird, when you're dreaming in a dream. Think that indicates that I'm really self-aware or just redundant?), and I can hear people talking. So, while all twisted up in my sheets, I can hear these voices and I think people are IMing me and, although my eyes are closed, I can still hear what they're saying. (I can hear IMs in my frickin' head? I need to get away from the computer.) Anyways, I finally drag myself awake, and I look over the edge of the bed--now I'm in a sparse, generically college bedroom--and my friends Clare and Leslie are sitting on the floor, looking out my window, talking to each other about how our friend Amy (their current roommate in real life) is going to get married to some guy she just met on the internet. Then Clare stands up and starts complaining because Burger King's not open for breakfast.

I woke up in real life and was late for work.