When I get to the ticket counter to check in, the gate attendant tells me that the flight is oversold. She checks my reservation and tells me that because I used frequent flyer miles to purchase the ticket, I will be bumped off the flight in favor of paying customers. At this point I notice that my ticket is to Atlanta, and I really want to go to D.C. I ask her what sort of compensation they will provide if I am bumped, and if they will arrange for me to get to D.C. instead. I think that this could work out well for me, as I obviously made a mistake in booking my travel.

I go down a flight of stairs at the airport to go back outside and meet my dad. Walking down the stairs, I pass by Maya Angelou and her entourage. I realize that they are on the flight to Atlanta.

I get into the back seat of my dad’s minivan because my mother is in the front seat. They both drive me home so I can pick up my suitcase.

I am dating a man and his mother tells me he has been killed in an accident. I am heartbroken. He appears later and I am shocked that he is still alive. I tell him that I was led to believe he was dead, and he replies that sounds like something his mother would do. I tell him that’s sick.

I go into the basement and there is a huge laundry room with dozens of rows of washers and dryers. I start doing my laundry.

I tell a female friend that Jodie Foster is coming over for dinner and she’s excited and nervous.

I start cleaning up and pick up stacks and stacks of newspapers. While I do so I discuss with my friend that I’ve seen a number of plays recently.

I see a woman on the street who says she works for a jewelry store. I ask how much it will cost to have my pearls restrung. She says it will be $30 to $50. I give her the pearls and she puts them in her pocket. Later I think that was dumb because she will steal them.

When I arrive at Elliott’s he gives me a tour of the new apartment. We start in the kitchen which opens onto a small room with two loveseats in it. The couches are old and kind of beat up, and even without a coffee table they fill the room. Now I know what Alex meant when he said the living room was in the kitchen. To get to the next room we have to crawl through a small door in the wall. Elliott says that this is a holdover from when the building was a grain mill.

The next room is large and open with very high ceilings and views out onto the city. The room is so large that there is a small wading pool in the middle of it. Two large dining tables provide an enormous amount of seating, I hang out there for a while and eventually a few other people, including Kevin, show up. Kevin doesn’t talk to anyone and just texts the whole time, and I wonder why he even bothered to come.

I return to Elliott’s apartment later and my entire family shows up too. It’s all my aunts and uncles from both sides of the family, and we take over the entire apartment. On this visit there is a door cut between the main room and the kitchen (much better) and the sofas have been taken out so the small room next to the kitchen can function as an entry foyer/mud room.

Gram is there and says she is taking care of new baby Max. The baby has dark hair and dark eyes and I can’t tell who he belongs to. I want to ask if we don’t already have another kid named Max in the family, but I am embarrassed to ask because I think I should know who his parents are.

At the end of the party everyone comes over to say goodbye to me and thank me for inviting them all. I tell Elliott he is a real saint for agreeing to have my entire family over, and I give him a hug.

I am back in high school and am walking between classes across a lawn with a bunch of other students. I see a gold chain lying on the ground and I turn around to go pick it up. Chris E. sees me pick it up and comes over to see what it is. It’s a gold pendant that has the letter “E” monogrammed on it. I suggest that it might belong to Ellen S., but when I show it to her she says it’s not hers. I tell them both that I’m going to give it to Kathy in the office to hold on to in case they find the real owner. I don’t want them to think that I am planning to steal it.

2.

I am at a party after school with a bunch of students and teachers. People are relaxing in an outdoor seating area and everyone is drinking some beer. I have a pot pipe stashed away and I take it out and start smoking pot. Everyone is obviously shocked by this and I can see people pointing and snickering. One of the teachers, Mr. L., comes over and pulls me aside to talk about it. I get really angry and start yelling something about “Richard-fucking-Nixon watching over me!”

3.

I decide to go visit Leigh R. at her home in Minnetonka so I can confront her about how mean she was to me when we were kids. She lives in the same neighborhood as she and her parents did when growing up. When I get there she’s extremely welcoming and very pleasant to talk to. We discuss how our lives are different. She has two boys who are getting close to high-school age now themselves, and she talks about how she and her husband will still be very young when they graduate, and how they will have a whole other life in their 40s and 50s. Her husband is Hawaiian and both the boys have Hawaiian names. I talk to her about my life in NYC and how many women have kids when they are 40, but I think that’s not for me. I compare the size of my kitchen with hers and it’s amazing how much smaller my appliances are. She is taking care of a neighbor’s three kids and we are all sitting together in the kitchen. The kids are very quiet and we read them a story, and I think maybe having young kids is kind of fun.

4.

I am with my mother and father in the parking lot of IHM. The church is burning down but my mother doesn’t notice. My father and I walk around the building to inspect the damage. Most of the building is still standing, but the area overlooking the parking lot is nearly gutted.

We all go down into the basement to play a card game. The game is something like Tarot but it uses normal playing cards. Everyone is dealt a large number of cards (it uses several decks) and then each player announces how many of each number he or she has. We all go around the circle in order, saying how many 4s or how many 7s we have. They seem to think they can make judgments about my character or personality based on these cards.

At the end of the game we all share the “face card” we’ve been dealt. Mine is “Aleister Crowley.” They all remark on how interesting this is. The father of the family offers to take me someplace.

I am staying in a dorm that is not unlike a hotel, with a large grand lobby and security that checks your ID before you get to the elevators. I go back to my room and I fear I have lost my keys. I go to the college bookstore and start looking around for them. I am reorganizing the book bags and backpacks when a salesclerk comes over to help me. I tell her I am looking for my keys.

I get a small knife for my keychain. It is just like the Cryovac penknives my father used to have, but it’s only about an inch long. I get it because they will let me take it through airport security.

I run into the young dean at the bookstore and he takes me back to my dorm in his car. He’s not quite sure where to go and he makes a wrong turn. We drive down a residential street with tiny houses on it. They are shaped like normal houses with shutters and a roof, but they appear to be only one small room. He says he doesn’t understand why students would live in a dorm room when they could have their own home.

I tell him I keep a blog on the internet where I write down all my dreams. He seems surprised and interested so I give him the address.

We decide to get manicures at the party. There is a whole outdoor area that is set up like a spa, with places to sit in hot tubs and have your nails done. There is also a table where some gaudy looking earrings are for sale. We learn that the earrings were made by Swedish people, and I comment that they aren’t worth what they’re charging but the labor costs are high.

We leave to take the train home. When I get to the turnstile I realize I don’t have my wallet, so I ask to borrow Josh’s Metrocard. The subway station is huge and cavernous, more like the hallways in a sports arena. I look at the signs and realize I can take the 7 train to the east side instead of taking the 1 downtown and then walking over.

The 7 is deep underground, and to take the stairs down seems like it would take forever. I notice an elevator with two rough-looking workmen in it. The door is closing and I race to catch it, but I miss it. I push on the elevator button to see if I can get it to open again, but they’re gone. In retrospect I am relieved because I would have felt unsafe riding the elevator with them. When the elevator returns I take it down to the platform level.

When the train comes I get on the same car with the workmen from the elevator. I strike up a conversation with them and rest my foot on the seat suggestively. The subway cars are ancient, like from the early 20th century.

There is a large group of people from the Middle East or East Asia on the train. One of them appears to be a king or a man of high status. A handler comes over and asks us politely if we will move because the car we’re in is reserved for the king. I get very angry and shout at her that this is a public conveyance, open to all.

When I get home my father is very angry about the fact that they house is dirty. He is mopping the floor furiously. I take the mop away from him and take over the cleaning job. He tells me I need to accept that I know better, that I know how to do better than this.

I do a load of laundry, but I only put one or two undergarments in the machine. When I come back later, they have been removed from the washer and put into the dryer. I think my father moved them.

A young boy about 5 or 6 is walking through the apartment with his father. He is very well-dressed and wearing expensive sneakers. I talk briefly to the father and then realize it’s time for me to go. I notice the boy has disappeared and I keep an eye out for him as I’m leaving.

As I reach the exit, I notice that the boy is in the bathroom, and he motions for me to come and help him. I’m a little hesitant, but he makes it seem urgent. The boy has pooped in his pants and needs me to help him clean it up. I tell him that his father will come down and deal with it, but he insists that he needs my help immediately, and that all I have to do is take the poop out. His pants are lying on the floor and I walk over to inspect them. I grab some tissues and remove the feces and flush them down the toilet.

The family reunion is taking place in a conference center and I walk down a number of hallways to find it. My uncle Fred says he saw my mother downtown recently and she had a booger on her shirt. Fred and Eleanor seem to believe that it came from my father, as he was prodigious in this department.

I go to the hotel (on the bicycle) and sit down to write a letter. I want to write a letter to Hopkins High School asking for some help with an environmental issue in Russia. I hope that they will read the letter and remember me. I choose a piece of hotel stationery and start to write, but I don’t get very far before realizing that I should type the letter instead of handwriting it. I go to take another sheet of stationery and I realize that all the pages are different. Some are at least 50 years old, and some are brightly colored, like origami papers. I choose the most professional looking paper and feed it into an ancient manual typewriter.

My father stole a car. He’s driving an old 1940s Ford. We’re driving along the edge of an embankment trying to jump the car over to a bridge on the other side. We almost miss but pull up just in time.

Alex if you really love me then turn your head to the side you’re getting away.

The waiting room is also a store that sells antique and vintage housewares. There are many areas or rooms that focus on different types of home items, and these areas are integrated with the reception areas for the doctor’s office. I visit the doctor multiple times and have the experience of walking through the store many times.

On one visit I’m there with Scott. He’s really cheerful about what he’s doing there or what we’re looking for.

On another visit I’m there with my father. We’re browsing through an area that sells antique benches and booths. My father points one out to me that is in the same style as something we had when I was young. It’s brown leather or fabric and has brass rivets and some other decoration on the edges.

There is a guide or a radio program that informs people about changes in the waiting room/store. One of the segments covers the parking lot. It says that even though there is a whole section of handicapped parking, one of the spots in that section is a regular (not handicapped) space so people should look for it.

Then I’m riding the bus with Scott and trying to explain to him how the bus route goes. I can see it on a map and we’re actually driving it.

I’m trying to make plans with Mike S. via text message to see an upcoming show. I tell him the names of the bands and the dates.

Andy and Sarah are going to live in the apartment in the back. I am happy for them because I think it’s a good deal.

The garage at the house in Chanhassen is also being converted into apartments.

I try to tell my father that the garages have become really valuable, but then I realize I can’t talk to my father about anything from the past.

Joy and I are supposed to visit my church from growing up, Immaculate Heart of Mary. My father has died and we are supposed to attend his funeral.

I visit my mother in our backyard on Prescott Drive. I am happy and excited. I tell her that my dad is dead and now she can move to the city.

Then I feel terrible because I realize that I wanted my father to die. I made this happen.

I remember thinking "It’s lucky my grandmother is buried here."

We visit her grave. You can see her lying in the grave. The casket is open and there’s s sheet of ice over it. Her face is covered with ice.

My mother is there with her family. I try to wave her off but my father sees her.

We all look at the grave together.

It’s a story in a book. It’s my grandmother. He has to pray with her. She’s very religious. He has to pray the story in the book every day and he hates it.

I look in the book to see the other stories, to see who the other stories are written by. I try to show him the other stories in the book.

I tell him that the authors of the other stories are all prominent members of a school called "Connecticut Realism."

We visit a shop that sells uniforms. All the clothes are displayed on mannequins and are sold in plastic packages.

I see a beautiful cashmere top and pants. I try to buy it, but the actual clothing in the packages is much cheaper fabric.