<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651</id><updated>2011-04-21T19:42:38.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'>treodream</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>39</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-113363918207728151</id><published>2005-12-03T11:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-12-03T11:46:22.100-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Trainwreck, Giant Moon, Etc!</title><content type='html'>I don't remember quite how it began or anything, but I remember laying on the ground with my grandpa in a field, not knowing why we were there, but I looked over to my left towards the highway, and noticed this truck... with one section, like a moving truck, travelling down it to my right, about a yard off the ground, and sideways.  I pointed that out to my gandpa, and I said that there was gonna be a wreck.  Sure enough, it hit something, then popped up onto this train track.  The train came immediately, also from the left, and the first car behind the engine or whatever in the front, was full of gas apparantly, cause it exploded.  While that part was maybe 5 cars to the right of us, facing the highway, the train was maybe 10 cars long, and it ended a bit past our left, so we got up and started getting the hell out of there.  About that time, my "companion" changed into Nick.  From where we were at, there were fences seperating us from the road, and buildings also.  We ended up hopping the first fence, then when we got to a fence by a house, Nick said that Jeff (our mutual friend) had come through here before, and had given him a key!  So he unlocked that fence, and I guess he had a plan as to a route to take through this housing area to the road.  He said that this house was run down and there was nobody in it, so we went in.  There was a rat that came out from under a mattress, but we made our way to the front of the house (we came in the back door) and exited through the front.  The next gate we tried was unlocked, but when we went in the yard, some kids started squirting us with squirt guns, and somehow we ended up in their house.   Kinda tied up or something, with their mom asking us what we were doing there.  The news was on the TV, so we just pointed out the wreck, and that everyone should leave (I don't know why, as if it was going to explode real big or something), and she let us go out through the window.  The view ahead of us still had houses, but it was less of a tightly packed complex, and more spaced out houses with high roofs, 2 stories I guess.  Lots of vegetation also.  About that time, I decided I would start flying to get a better view.  After getting to a decent altitude, I told myself I was dreaming, and Nick, on the ground, told me that he was waiting for me to realize that.  Since I was lucid, etc, I decided to try flexing my power and summoned a hot chick on the ground out of thin air.  Shortly after this, the phone rang and woke me up HOWEVER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before that, there was something about some kind of comedy / concert deal where I was up near the front row, and I leaned my arm on what I thought was this ledge on the right, but instead it was a piano's keys, and the sound made them stop and "thank" me for my help.  I laid down on the floor after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another feature in an earlier dream was a giant second moon.  I saw it a couple times in the dream, but I finally asked about it, and someone told me that it was a piece of the real moon that had broken off from a meteor impact, and that it was the land that was above one of the big craters, but broke off.  It took up probably half of the night sky.   I had the notion that it was slowly falling to earth also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, at some point I had the notion that I was living in a dream world, but not neccessarily dreaming.  I was talking on the phone to someone about just waking up and living in the real world instead of in the dream world, cause it felt so fake.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-113363918207728151?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/113363918207728151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=113363918207728151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/113363918207728151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/113363918207728151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/12/trainwreck-giant-moon-etc.html' title='Trainwreck, Giant Moon, Etc!'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110867960213082369</id><published>2005-02-17T14:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-02-17T14:33:22.130-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had this dream last night where I was in some kind of situation where I was being forced to relive someone else's car accident as someone in the back seat.  I would avert the disaster, only to have the fake world come crashing down and having the people involved turning into black goo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Posted with hblogger 2.0 http://www.normsoft.com/hblogger/]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110867960213082369?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110867960213082369/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110867960213082369' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110867960213082369'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110867960213082369'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/02/i-had-this-dream-last-night-where-i.html' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110705741682432130</id><published>2005-01-29T19:56:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-29T19:56:56.823-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Again, I had a dream about my car being totalled.  Again, by a woman, but this time I was rear-ended at a light.  Bitches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Posted with hblogger 2.0 http://www.normsoft.com/hblogger/]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110705741682432130?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110705741682432130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110705741682432130' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110705741682432130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110705741682432130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/01/again-i-had-dream-about-my-car-being.html' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110694538733012052</id><published>2005-01-28T13:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-29T01:01:17.416-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird</title><content type='html'>I had a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I was driving down some dirt mountain road, downhill, following a convertible through a construction site, and the convertible kinda spun and was sliding sideways in front of me, while the guy was talking on his cell phone. It occurred to me that it was normal and legal for  convertibles to do that. Anyway, we had to stop for some construction equipment in the road, but my brakes weren't working, or the road was too slippery, cause I hit the convertible, the equipment, into a ditch, rolled my car, and totalled it. there was something else about shaving my head and having a motorcycle that I could summon at will, and getting chicken at albertsons with a friend who could do the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110694538733012052?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110694538733012052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110694538733012052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110694538733012052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110694538733012052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/01/weird.html' title='Weird'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110625684735739410</id><published>2005-01-20T13:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-20T13:34:07.356-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I had a dream that had something to do with some music I was playing on a CD player effecting the weather, the clouds in particular.  Whenever the track would play, the clouds would rush by really fast and stormy-like.  Always in the identical way, and when I would pause it, the clouds would pause also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Posted with hblogger 2.0 http://www.normsoft.com/hblogger/]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110625684735739410?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110625684735739410/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110625684735739410' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110625684735739410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110625684735739410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/01/i-had-dream-that-had-something-to-do.html' title=''/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110607499131366860</id><published>2005-01-18T10:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-18T11:03:11.313-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aliens and school busses and parties!!!!!11</title><content type='html'>Alright, so&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was at my grandparents' house or something, and I'd remembered something Tristan had said about Sirius Satelite Radio (not in real life). It had something to do with aliens, alright? :P So I went to this wooden table we had, and pushed this hidden button (or made some noise, I forgot), and this contraption came up out of the wood, and while it started out flat, it slowly built itself up into a metallic pyramid with satelite dishes and whatnot sticking out of it. It was only a foot and a half to two feet tall. Anyway, this was used to call down an alien spacecraft down, with some of my alien friends from another dream, who initially scared the crap out of me (in the other dream). They were taking me back to their planet when I got bored and jumped out along the way, because something interested me. There were just these weird pink shapes outside, like they were outlining star systems and whatnot. So I jumped out, kinda flew for a while, and oozed through the wall of a room. In this control room, there were monitors and stuff like that, so that I could see that the planet that the room was on, was colliding with another planet, and then another was colliding also :P There were earthquakes going on, but somehow, through using my watch (BEATS ME), I make the pyramid appear again, and somehow I was at home, in front of the pyramid. They came back, and I told them what happened, then they took me back to their real planet, which I never got to, cause I transitioned out of that part I think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another part had me driving a school bus to my old high school, then getting out and walking around for a while, looking into the classrooms.  One of them I opened the door to, I think I was looking for someone in, and they were there, but I had to come back the next day.  It was the next day suddenly, and class was all in session, so I didn't want to disturb anyone.  On one of the paths, I saw 2 piles of dog poop and a bunch of trash, so I thought about calling the office and telling them that their custodial staff sucks.  I then saw my car parked by the side of the road, and I found this controller in my hand, so I started controlling it remotely, doing 180s and stuff.  it was pretty cool.  I then did that to a bus, freaking some kids out.  I then got ON the bus, and started driving it, but there was only this little peep hole to look through so it kinda sucked.  But then, someone told me it was just a dream and to have fun, so I did.  I just started powersliding it around turns and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I was in my room using my computer, and was watching some anime.  I kept wanting to play some new game I'd been playing, but for some reason I had to wait to play it.  My parents walked in my room, and looking out into the house there was this big party going on, with a dance floor and everything.  My parents were talking about going home, as if this wasn't our house.  It was kinda weird :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110607499131366860?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110607499131366860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110607499131366860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110607499131366860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110607499131366860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/01/aliens-and-school-busses-and-parties11.html' title='Aliens and school busses and parties!!!!!11'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110572784962268335</id><published>2005-01-14T10:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-14T10:37:29.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't remember much...</title><content type='html'>Don't remember much, but I know there were several times where I was insulting my mom's intelligence in front of my dad, and that not being cool :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, there was a part where I was on some kind of Boy Scout trip, but we were at some hotel.  Weird stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110572784962268335?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110572784962268335/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110572784962268335' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110572784962268335'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110572784962268335'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/01/dont-remember-much.html' title='Don&apos;t remember much...'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110504784263418233</id><published>2005-01-06T13:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-06T13:44:02.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An odd play</title><content type='html'>From what i can remember now, a few hours after waking, my mom, myself, and someone else were doing some weird play, where we had some strange, intricate costumes made out of vegetation.  we were changing outside, in some kind of wrecking yard.  I can't remember too much else, but I do recall a large wall with a big fountain behind it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110504784263418233?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110504784263418233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110504784263418233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110504784263418233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110504784263418233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/01/odd-play.html' title='An odd play'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110486615018770218</id><published>2005-01-04T11:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2005-01-04T11:15:50.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Planes, Girls, and Reunions</title><content type='html'>Ok, so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a large part where it was kind of a family reunion in this big house, but we weren't neccessarily family.  It was a big gathering though, for some event of some sort, and my old neighbors were back in town for it, and I got to see them for the first time since 7th grade.  It was cool.  The girl gave me her email address because she changed it, though I hadn't been able to get her at her old one, ever :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another part, we were on some plane somehow, and it could not land properly.  We were trying to land on some highway, going downhill.  5 other planes were trying to land right behind us, and it was a big fiery wreck, but I don't think anyone was actually hurt.  Weird stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110486615018770218?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110486615018770218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110486615018770218' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110486615018770218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110486615018770218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2005/01/planes-girls-and-reunions.html' title='Planes, Girls, and Reunions'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110434906627749909</id><published>2004-12-29T11:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-29T11:37:46.276-08:00</updated><title type='text'>RHCP yo</title><content type='html'>Yeah, so I went to some concerty thing, and hung out with Anthony and Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  Pretty cool d00ds :P  Then there was something about me driving a couple people home drunk, and damaging my car, then us having a hot asian housekeeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110434906627749909?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110434906627749909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110434906627749909' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110434906627749909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110434906627749909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/12/rhcp-yo.html' title='RHCP yo'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110382545027432511</id><published>2004-12-23T10:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-23T10:10:50.273-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Aligators.</title><content type='html'>Ok, how about some semi-intelligent sea-aligators that could transmogrify into a human form?  Well, they were all at a zoo type of place, and there were a lot of them.  In human form they were pretty stupid, but could be trained to do jobs.  They couldn't understand english, but could be taught how basic sounds work, like parrots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110382545027432511?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110382545027432511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110382545027432511' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110382545027432511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110382545027432511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/12/aligators.html' title='Aligators.'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110366557648479896</id><published>2004-12-21T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-21T13:46:16.483-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Casino</title><content type='html'>Ok, so there was a part of this dream where I was hovering / sliding again, but this was down a giant wet grassy slope.  I had control as if I were skating though.  Was pretty fancy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another part of the dream found me in some casino, in the bathroom more specifically.  I was taking a leak, and the old guy next to me tried to touch my wang with his cane.  I got mad and batted it away, then when he tried to do it again, I grabbed the cane and hit his hand with it.  His son (who was like 30) got mad at ME for hitting his wang touching dad, and tried to take me out, but that didn't turn out well for him, which got the casino security guy coming after me.   I saw him coming towards me, and I put my hands up.  He grabbed them as hard as he could, while shouting and took me into some room for torture or something.  I didn't see what happened to me cause at that point I was viewing myself from the 3rd person.  I saw myself taken in, but I was left looking at the door.  At some point he let me out, and he dropped a bunch of poker chips that I gladly picked up, to spend there next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110366557648479896?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110366557648479896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110366557648479896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110366557648479896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110366557648479896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/12/casino.html' title='Casino'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110302564692307144</id><published>2004-12-14T03:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-14T04:00:46.923-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snoop a loop</title><content type='html'>So I had some dream about hanging out with Snoop Dogg and his brother on some 3 level house boat, and they had undone their hair from cornrows and they had huge fros.  They had some kind of go kart setup, and we had a SHO club meeting there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110302564692307144?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110302564692307144/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110302564692307144' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110302564692307144'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110302564692307144'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/12/snoop-loop.html' title='Snoop a loop'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110226915911791005</id><published>2004-12-05T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-05T09:52:39.116-08:00</updated><title type='text'>TEETH</title><content type='html'>Again, forgot most of it, but I was taking some test in my grandparents' living room with some other people.  I don't remember what it was for, but everyone else but this one girl left because they were done, and she wasn't being the nicest to me.  At one point, I started relating my trip to Omaha to her, but instead of what actually happened there with the weather, I related bad weather stuff that happened in another dream.  Like looking up at a tornado, and 1000 foot sprays of water shooting up a dam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At one point, my jaw started locking up, and I went to the bathroom cause it was inexplicable and hurt, and I wanted to look in the mirror.  Lo and behold, 2 of my top front teeth were broken (missing the bottom halves) and another one was the same, except it had a painful sliver of full-length tooth left on the side.  This mirror had some kind of magnifying action, and I got a close up view of how teeth are really composed.  With tiny threads and some kind of cement material, duh :P  I tried calling my mom at work on their phone, but I kept hitting a speed dial.  I tried for quite a while on my new cell (the one I just got for work, in real life, that day), but I kept misdialing cause I was all confused.  My cousins came over, I saw them, then I woke up cause I was sleeping restlessly, to be very relieved that my teeth were all intact.  It seemed very real, because of the cell phone and crap.  And whatnot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110226915911791005?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110226915911791005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110226915911791005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110226915911791005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110226915911791005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/12/teeth.html' title='TEETH'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110193239696665034</id><published>2004-12-01T13:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-12-01T12:19:56.966-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chilis</title><content type='html'>So, I was at some school for some reason, walking around, and it turned into some kind of mall, and I was there with a couple people.  We got to the end of the mall, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers were doing a suprise concert.  The place got pretty packed.  They played a faster song, then a slower song from By The Way, then their cover of Love Rollercoaster.  During that one, Anthony gave me a frying pan to go play thie bucket on some guy's head as a cowbell.  The guy stopped liking it after a couple measures though :P  After the thing, I met them all, shook their hands.  Except for some reason, John had been replaced by Tom Morello.  After that, I had the idea to get their autographs, cause my band members would never believe me, but I couldn't find a pen that worked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110193239696665034?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110193239696665034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110193239696665034' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110193239696665034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110193239696665034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/12/chilis.html' title='Chilis'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110142352513525008</id><published>2004-11-25T14:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-25T14:58:45.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Artsy Boom</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I was in some kind of tower / observatory with a couple girls.  One of them looked like Shannon Elizabeth.  The top of the thing had a dome kind of thing, and we were painting the place with murals of people, but we were kinds laying on this circular shelf at the top of the place, and painting from across the room somehow.  We were kinda scattered about, not really near eachother, but we were coming along well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At another point, I was driving from some party up on Rhodedendron Lane, turning on to Finn Hill to go home, and to the left I saw a truck fly through the air, and a bunch of cars crashing.  I had my passenger, who I think was Jeremiah, call 911 on my cell, but he didn't manage it.  I ended up driving over to the place, on the shoulder, and didn't notice any cars anymore.  Seems the people there (hillbilly people) were trying to do something with their truck, and made some kind of gasoline explosion to move it.  They started pouring gas on my truck (I was driving a truck apparently,) which made me nervous.  Then one of them started rolling a flaming tire / wheel over to it, laughing and saying he's gonna change the tire, and since I didn't want it to be a fireball, I got in, started it, and took off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was something else about riding on a bus, and not really going to a destination so much as riding it for fun, or just to talk to the people on it.  I think it was even a school bus..  I'm not sure if I was there for the students or the bus driver, who may have been my friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110142352513525008?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110142352513525008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110142352513525008' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110142352513525008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110142352513525008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/artsy-boom.html' title='Artsy Boom'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110134587338874525</id><published>2004-11-24T17:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-24T17:24:33.386-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Half Lifeish</title><content type='html'>I don't remember most of the dream leading up to this, but I was going through some kind of half-lifeish game, and some beast was called an.. anarakdite?  Something like that.  Then I was doing some game where I could pick everything up and move it, more from a 3/4 birds eye view.  Like I had to move all these people over to some place because there was some kind of disaster happening, and I had some kind of theme music playing, but then my dad woke me up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110134587338874525?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110134587338874525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110134587338874525' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110134587338874525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110134587338874525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/half-lifeish.html' title='Half Lifeish'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110125221401292417</id><published>2004-11-23T15:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-23T15:23:34.013-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Hawaisonskate</title><content type='html'>So, I was hanging out with Matt and Nikki, and they decided it would be fun to go to Hawaii for 10 days.  I said ok, even though I knew I had crap for funding.  I bought the ticket, and flew to Hawaii with them.  The pilot was scary dumb, like he shouldn't be flying the plane, and in my version of Hawaii, there's apparantly no room to land a plane, so some platform in the air had to be constructed, and it's undersized.  I guess the way it worked, was that the plane had a hook on the bottom, and has to hit this rubber band while landing (and not touched down yet), then as soon as we land we have to brace hard because it's a really hard hit.  Oh, also, because the platform's small, there's this sharp ramp in the middle, that goes up maybe 75 degrees, to have more runway room :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we were there a few hours, then I remembered I had to go to school (or some crap like that) and didn't want my parents to know I went to Hawaii, so I used my return ticket back home, leaving Matt and Nikki in Hawaii.  It then struck me how stupid it was, because I'd just blown $300 (which is the number I arbitrarily came up with, apparently), and it would cost me $50 to get back.  Somehow from there, I ended up in prison for doing &lt;b&gt;something&lt;/b&gt;, another detail that seems to have slipped my mind.  Anyway, it was boring there.  It was just some single cell I had, with a bed.  Looked like it was in some kind of city jail or something, but Nick came by to see me.  Somehow they let me out so I could skate (inline), and we started hitting random ramps at some tony-hawk esque skate park.  I had mad skillz, which means it was in no way reflective of my real skill.  Somehow, these skates needed &lt;i&gt;gas&lt;/i&gt;, so we stopped by a gas station.   The fill hole was very small, and I needed to use a pin to keep the cap open.  It came to about $1.07, but now that I think about it, that musta been real expensive gas, cause I know I only put in like a teaspoon into each skate :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110125221401292417?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110125221401292417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110125221401292417' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110125221401292417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110125221401292417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/hawaisonskate.html' title='Hawaisonskate'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110098317788018393</id><published>2004-11-20T13:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-20T12:39:37.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Woah"</title><content type='html'>Hrm, where to begin.  I suppose the first bit I remember was hanging out in the parking lot in front of the Golden Lion chineese place in town, down by the Rite-Aid and Albertsons.  Bunch of people were there, don't know what we were there for.  I know Melissa was there, maybe some other people from the casino too.  I had some $3 cigar, but then it broke, and I tried to smoke the small part there, but it wasn't the same.  It had air leaks in it so it wouldn't smoke right.   I went over to a parking lot on the side for some reason, like I was chasing something, and noticed a bunch of colorful balls, from one of those playplace things that kids play in at McDonalds'.  I grabbed a couple and went back, then Stan, Kin's dad, offered to pay me to pick them all up and clean that parking lot.  I said I'd need a wheelbarrow to do it, cause there was a lot of crap in it, and he said we could do it in a few days.  He then eluded to having other odd jobs for me sometimes, which was cool.  Somehow from there, we ended up out in front of some guy's house with our cars.  We were hanging out in the driveway, which was a pretty steep dirt hill, but had an expanded parking area in the middle of it, that bulged to the sides.  At this point, it was like I started blacking out and periods of time were passing that I didn't realize.  We were in the guy's garage, talking about cars.  There was a guy with a really nice RX-7, that had a bunch of electronics craziness in it, like a TV panel and stuff.  Someone else had an Audi A4, and then there was what I assumed was my SHO, so I was showing it off.  I then found this new dent on the left quarter panel,  and I started freaking out.  I was circling the car, looking for more dents, was looking at the car parked next to it to see if there was a matching dent on it, etc.  While I was looking at the car, I started to realize that it wasn't mine.  The tires were big and sticky, and had the Ford Blue Oval on them, and I thought they were ford racing rubber, or something.  The car was also lowered incorrectly, because the wheels tilted in at the top a lot (bad camber.)  I saw some guy I hadn't noticed before, so I asked if it was his car, he said yeah.  I went down to my car (which was parked in that expanded part of the driveway), and it was still there.  While driving home, something happened, and that part ended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found myself in some sort of waterfront setting, which for some reason also felt like a fair, but there were no rides or anything in sight.  Someone told me that the world I had been in was just an experiment, a subworld of the world I was now in.  It shocked me for 0 seconds, cause then I told HIM THAT HIS WORLD WAS SIMPLY A SUBWORLD, and that I came from the one above THIS ONE.  I then become slightly Neo-like, and started going in and out of subworlds (without me actually seeing them.)  The subworlds were represented as objects here.  One of them was like a giant whale, and inside its mouth was an entrance to it.  It was a bit like the circle of holiday doors in Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas.  I made my way down the boardwalk.  There were people, and pumpkins, and at the end there was some force coming after us, like the Combine from Half Life 2, so I hid in a celler of a nearby house with a couple people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's about it :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110098317788018393?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110098317788018393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110098317788018393' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110098317788018393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110098317788018393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/woah.html' title='&quot;Woah&quot;'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110089685077487860</id><published>2004-11-18T13:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-19T12:40:50.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jail?</title><content type='html'>Strange one, had me in some kind of large, open jail with 4 tall stone walls.  Pretty dark, very cold.  Lots of people.  Don't remember too much with the details, except I could communicate through telepathy with this chick in there, and that our body heat was somehow connected.  Like if I get warmer, it get her warmer, from accross the compound.  Strange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then later, we had to clean this section of stone wall, then we were free to go.  I woke up during that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110089685077487860?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110089685077487860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110089685077487860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110089685077487860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110089685077487860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/jail.html' title='Jail?'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110038091804421004</id><published>2004-11-13T13:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-13T13:31:33.773-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dragtown</title><content type='html'>Again, I don't remember what.. crap. ok, I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember being in kind of a first person real time strategy game (where an RTS would be something like StarCraft), and we had a base built up, but then we went around and flanked the enemy base while they were attacking OUR base. The structures were like carnival equipment, but we tried to burn them (it didn't occur to us that they're mostly metal), or at least the tarps covering them. Kin and William were there (William being Kin's 7 year old son), and while I was talking to Kin, we heard William from above (from on top of something like the &lt;a href="http://www.playworldamusements.com/Zipper.jpg"&gt;Zipper&lt;/a&gt;, really tall), shout something to the effect of "Look at me!" and jumped off, and slid down the tarp that was over it, nearly landing on the ground. The enemy ended up coming back to their base, but then I forgot what happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next chapter had me in a wheelchair, not because my back was broken or anything, but I had sprained my wrist or something, and I had a home-made cast on one of my arms. Not only this, but I was going to college over in Seattle. Not only THAT, but I was taking public transportation... with a wheelchair. Which ended up being crappy. I could get on the bus, but the aisle was too small, so I had to stay in the doorway. Once I got TO school, 2 teachers in wheelchairs tried showing me how to do wheelies on the right wheels and supporting yourself with your right hand. Some point around here, my wheelchair and cast were gone. Then I assume there was a small wait before my class, and I went over to some friends that were playing some kind of 3d projected version of Final Fantasy. We did that for a while, then I asked what time it was. It was around 10, and since this was my first day, I didn't know my exact schedule yet, so I panicked trying to find it in my bag, or in a book. Someone who looked official walked by and I tried asking him where I could find my schedule, rather loudly, but he just kept walking to the bathroom. The game was being projected, or based out of a boxy thing on the floor, and while laying there watching / playing, I felt something hot on my arm, and looked down at some kind of projected pink ice stuff. They said it was esper material. It was funky. I then started looking around the school, and everyone was friggin obese (at least the women), and the guys were trying to hit on them. It was weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, back to what I remembered INITIALLY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went to some track with the Northwest SHO Club people, following them because I didn't know where it was, to try our hands at the 1/4 mile. We got there and it was pretty backwoods. No real rules or anything major. I put my name down on the sign in sheet, and got in line. Nonetheless, I was never called, so I went and checked somewhere else. I also had to get some other test done, by driving fast 1 mile on the freeway from onramp to offramp and having them check the time. However, the runs were all done for the day, and they couldn't let me in without more people. I went and found Glen, and I said he had to race me a couple times. He said ok, but it's not a competition, and not for me to get mad or anything, but if I did, my car might go faster and beat him (while he has a lot done to his car to make it far faster than mine.) He said something about launching at 2000 RPM and using the clutch once, and using that as a signal, which made NO SENSE :P When we went back to the place to get me tested and to put our names in on the lineup, there were some other people in there, with some weird lookin dog who was sick. It needed medicine apparently, and the rest of the dream was just waiting while those people did dumb things. There was this sort of raised treadmill with scratchy things on it, supposedly to scratch dogs' backs or something, but one of the dumb people there tried to lay on it and it just shot them off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110038091804421004?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110038091804421004/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110038091804421004' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110038091804421004'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110038091804421004'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/dragtown.html' title='Dragtown'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-110028810642401879</id><published>2004-11-12T11:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-12T11:35:06.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting Tables</title><content type='html'>So once again, I forget the beginning of my dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I went to some res&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, just remembered.  Funny how that works.   Start typing it and thinking about it, and more details come pouring in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, well I can't remember how we got to the WOODS as a family / neighbor family trip, but when we came back, I went into my grandma's bathroom while still chewing on some gushers that I'd just eaten, then one started moving in my mouth so I spit it out into the bath tub, and it was an orange frog with black spots, like &lt;a href="http://www.pumilio.com/images/pictures/orangegalac2.jpg"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.  I saw that there were two more in the bathtub, and another jumped out of my mouth, making four.  I went to tell my mom about it, and was asking about the bad batch of gushers with FROGS IN THEM, but she said they must have gotten in the bag when we were in the woods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After this, I guess I may have been wanting to go back to the woods, cause I ended up walking up near my old friend Chris' house on Rhodedendron Lane, but a lot of the trees there were cleared.  Specifically, where his house used to be, had become a forrest, and now it was all chopped down.  There was a guy there, so I started talking to him.  He asked if I used to play in the woods in the area, I said yeah.  He asked about bears, I said I never saw one, and he said his escape route was always running down a stream (straighter path? I dunno), and I said we were just really quick with running down our trails. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were some pretty tall stumps there, and he carved one really quick into a bear with a chainsaw.  Then this machine came by (just like a fork lift fork, with some big thing on the end.)  It pushed onto a stump and carved it into a generic looking cartoon faced bear with pointy teeth.  Kinda like a crappy pumpkin carving.  There were a few carvings just like this one, with little modifications.  Like one had wings, etc. I went into the little trading post type thing they had there, and went up to the bar.  There were a couple of my unnamed friends (I say that because in my dream I got the feeling I knew them, but I don't know who they were,) who were unsure of what to get, and the bartender poured them half shots of jack daniels, which they were groaning about.  I asked for a shot of jack, he said I looked old enough (even though I was already opening my over-stuffed-with-cards wallet to get my ID), so I brought out some cash.  I guess I paid with $40, cause my change was $37 or so.  We counted to 3, and took our shots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't remember after that until I was at this restaraunt with my family, which is the point to which I had forgotten til I started this post.  While at the table, I noticed they needed someone else waiting tables, so I started doing so.  I was part of the staff instantly, with black slacks, blue button up shirt, and dress shoes.  Since I was new, I was kinda going around to most of the tables real quick and doing a visual check for water and stuff.  I was informed that someone was needed in the bathroom, by someone important to the business, but nobody was there.  I waited on a couple girls I know for dessert, and they ordered a fudge sundae and water (I think), then I went back to my family, sat down, and they waited on US for dessert (I apparently missed most of the meal).  I ordered a sundae, of course.  There were other good things on the menu, like some kind of strawberry waffle thing, but yanno.  Ice cream.  Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting about there, I think, I started losing control of my feet.  While walking, I started having less traction than normal, which I first attributed to my shoes, which obviously didn't have enough traction on the soles.   I was walking back and forth through the restaraunt, and the tables seemed closer together.  It's hard to move quickly and change direction when you don't have traction on your feet, and it makes for quite a display I suppose.  I ran into someone's leg, and apologized to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shortly thereafter, the telephone rang and woke me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, with that traction thing, it's a fairly common recurring thing.  While I have talked about being able to "hover" before, and go at high speeds (which I believe is similar to this), sometimes it's just walking around and not being able to stop.  I slide, spin, whatever, as if I'm on ice.  Very odd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-110028810642401879?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/110028810642401879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=110028810642401879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110028810642401879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/110028810642401879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/waiting-tables.html' title='Waiting Tables'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109994607042087207</id><published>2004-11-08T13:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-08T12:34:30.420-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Racin'</title><content type='html'>So I was racing my car at some small track, and was doing pretty well until the last lap, where I sent it off road twice.  The first time I got launched into some field, landed on all 4 wheels.  The second time, I negotiated a turn at the top of a hill wrong, with too much speed, and went off the road again.  After all that, I went home, and my dad had bought a bigger TV, so instead of having a 42" widescreen, it was more like an 80". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I had been talking about negotiating turns on hills the day before, and Brian told me about how his parents got a new plasma TV, when they already had a big front projection one)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109994607042087207?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109994607042087207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109994607042087207' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109994607042087207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109994607042087207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/racin.html' title='Racin&apos;'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109985951810600364</id><published>2004-11-07T13:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-07T12:34:46.520-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mothersnow</title><content type='html'>Forgot the beginnning of the dream (sadly :/)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First part I can remember, I guess I had been motherless up til now, and I got to meet my real mom at some kind of sinister factory, with steam jetting out everywhere for no reason. I remembered being upset about it. Maybe it was just that my mom had been lying to me about something, like her workplace. I'm not sure. She introduced me to two older ladies that were upper-ups in the company.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a part where I was delivering koolaid to skiiers and snowboarders (and snow bikers!?) up on some kind of snow resort thing, which was odd. It seemed like it was manufactured somehow. Like you could just drive up (in a lamborghini countach, in my case) on asphault, climb a ladder, and then you see the snow. It was like it was some giant downhill halfpipe, with snow in it, a course made out of it within the halfpipe. I say halfpipe because I've been playing a lot of Tony Hawk, and that's probably where I got the idea of the shape from. Anyway: Someone had told me that you could give coolaid away for free up here, and everyone would really appreciate it, and the people in charge would compensate you for it. So I went there, with a GIANT VAT of cherry koolaid, climbed the ladder, and in order to communicate that I had the koolaid, for some reason I was an idiot and was fashioning the letters out of snow, and throwing them down into the action. As if I were going to line them all up. The letters seemed like giant, white versions of alphabits. Now that I think about it, what the heck was I&lt;br /&gt;thinking? Yeesh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second time I went up there, I pulled up to the place, and then I was invited to go see the guy who runs the place. I guess there were several of these snow halfpipes he ran, all in the same general area. Anyway, I really forgot what he had to say, but I'm sure it was smarter than me trying to tell people I had koolaid with poorly made white letters on top of SNOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as the snow bikers: people were outfitting the bikes with nitrous really cheap, and it made them faster and "smoother over bumps" or some crap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109985951810600364?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109985951810600364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109985951810600364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109985951810600364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109985951810600364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/mothersnow.html' title='Mothersnow'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109977380937394681</id><published>2004-11-06T13:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-06T12:43:29.373-08:00</updated><title type='text'>It's gig time, what T-Shirt am I gonna wear!?</title><content type='html'>Ok, so we were playing our first gig, and while we played our first song, we had this blue tarp covering the front of the stage for some reason. I looked out and there were like 80 people maybe, but it didn't make any sense about the tarp. After the first song, Nick wanted to play the Beauty and the Beast song, which made NO SENSE, and I didn't know the words, but he wanted me to wing it, assuming I knew enough of them. It took a while, but I finally convinced him not to do it, but then when I suggested we play the songs we KNOW, he said most of them have already been played by other people at this event. I was wanting to play Broken Home, but NoOoOOo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then later, I was at what seemed like a skating rink, but I was just hanging out with some chick, then I got hungry and went to get this chicken sandwich thing, then when I got it, it didn't have a drink with it, which it was supposed to come with. I went back to ask about it, but they didn't know what I was talking about, and put me on the phone with the owner, who happened to be a very thick-accented Japanese man. He said that there was no drink, then I looked back at the menu item, and there in fact was no drink. I then went back to the chick, and she started talking about her boyfriend. Woo friggin hoo :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109977380937394681?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109977380937394681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109977380937394681' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109977380937394681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109977380937394681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/its-gig-time-what-t-shirt-am-i-gonna.html' title='It&apos;s gig time, what T-Shirt am I gonna wear!?'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109969302833859005</id><published>2004-11-05T14:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-05T14:17:08.340-08:00</updated><title type='text'>EVIL CATS</title><content type='html'>I stayed at Matt's last night, and slept on the couch.  They have two cats, Alley and Thaddius.  Alley was sleeping on me while I slept, but THADDIUS kept pestering me.  Like his paw on my forehead, that kind of thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO, I fell asleap with THAT going on.  So I had this dream where Thaddius was actually a MEAN CAT, and kept biting me.  And then his mom came, and she was MASSIVE, and SHE was biting me, and they tore my shirt up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then had some weird dream where I lived in some other neighborhood, and one of the houses had a bunch of zombies in it, and something about a kid driving a car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109969302833859005?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109969302833859005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109969302833859005' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109969302833859005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109969302833859005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/evil-cats.html' title='EVIL CATS'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109942454670426797</id><published>2004-11-02T11:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-02T11:42:26.706-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Field trip</title><content type='html'>Ok, so.  I go on this field trip with people, apparently we're in 12th grade, I'm not sure.  Anyway, we get on a plane, and fly somewhere, but we stop along the way, and the plane is more like a bus.  One of the people in charge hands out raffle tickets, and one of the kids won $17 and free jell-o for life.  Yeah, NO IDEA THERE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SO our next stop was my grandparents' house in California.  We were watching something I had recorded, it was like, old cub scout footage (which in reality I never recorded, but it was more like my memories on the screen).  I was there with Shawn, I know, and Mr. Coykendall was sitting on a couch in the room, magically.  After the movie was over (I had to tell them to stop it early cause that was the same tape that had some bad language on it or something :P), everyone got real quiet.  a couple people fell asleap, and my grandma kept hushing us when shawn or I tried to talk.  I asked why we were being so quiet, she scolded me, so I threw my napkin at her and went in the other room and laid on the couch.  We went outside, and their roof did something I hadn't seen it do before, then we got back on the bus / plane.  Our next stop was this island city in the sky, and somehow our ship got damaged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to this dude's place that I assumed I knew, and was hanging out with him and his friend.  The dude that owned the place, went to another room, and this chick appeared.  Me and the other guy talked to her for a while (she was wearing some funky stuff, so we knew she wasn't normal), then the owner came out and they started fighting.  She then transformed into some kind of robotical thing, and drained all the power in the place, violently, and the owner ran out.  She was nice to us though, so yanno.  I went to follow the owner, then when we came back in, d00d #2 said she left.  Owner went to the bathroom, and I asked if she really left, he said no.  I went downstairs, and the X-Box was playing, so I was like yo, invisible person.  This time it was a guy who looked like Tony Robbins, but it was the same person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went back upstairs, and there were a few more people there, mostly asian.  Now that I think about it, one of the girls had been there earlier.  I sat down by her, and she was trying to get me to meet me at some store the next day at 6:30, so I asked if she had a cell phone that worked, and she pulled out this MASSIVE CELLPHONE that transformed into a crime fighting robot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then went on some tangent where this robot cellphone could be ridden, and told what to do, and could be any kind of transportation thing.  I think I made it a motorcycle and was driving around on this platform in space, but then I woke up :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109942454670426797?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109942454670426797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109942454670426797' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109942454670426797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109942454670426797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/field-trip.html' title='Field trip'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109934262511854727</id><published>2004-11-01T13:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-01T12:57:05.120-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Forgot when</title><content type='html'>Don't remember when this one was, it was a while ago though.  The last one with the feet sliding made me remember it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I drove over to Seattle on the ferry, and parked when I got there.  When I went back to look for my car, it was GONE.  I looked for ever, and even got a homeless guy's help.  It just wasn't there.  Anyway, while I was looking, and running from some kids that were trying to throw rocks at me or something (I don't remember clearly anymore), I did the feet sliding, hovering thing.  It was weird :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right after I got my new car, I had a few dreams about losing it, or it being taken from me.  Kinda paranoid I guess :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109934262511854727?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109934262511854727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109934262511854727' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109934262511854727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109934262511854727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/forgot-when.html' title='Forgot when'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109934202067214578</id><published>2004-11-01T13:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-11-01T12:47:00.673-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Flying... water... place</title><content type='html'>Ok, so it started out like I was in California, and we were visiting some kind of water / ball pit park.  I was with my mom, grandma, and cousin Scott, I think.  The place was like an island, so we had to get there by boat, which was more like a wide raft.  Instead of pulling all the way up, since it broke, or something, Scott and I jumped in and swam to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, it was as if I were living on some kind of houseboat out in the water, with some people, I don't remember who they were, but I remember going to some store on the mainland with Kin, then when they closed the store (it looked like a big GAP), we did our security check, which, apparently was our job, somehow), while the real guards chased us.  I started sliding on my feet, like I've done many times in different dreams.  It's like I start going, then I lift my feet up, and I just slide on a cushion of air.   It's similar to skating, but with less traction, so I end up running into stuff.  I think at that point, the dream became semi-lucid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left, down the path towards the water.  We were up on a steep hill that had a lot of pine trees around it, and Kin got a call on his cell phone (which he doesn't currently have), and was talking for a long time, so I flew back to the boat.  Yeah, that's right. I flew. Suckers.  And not any old flying, it was like I was rowing in air.  This was more lucidity.  It was strange, because I knew I could fly normally, headfirst, but the rowing made it feel more stable, and easier to control.  Kept me more airborne.  So I did, and when I got over the water, I tried to do a loop, unsuccessfully, lost too much altitude, and my face went in the water, but the rest of my body hovered.  I know I got back to the boat / house, but I don't remember much else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109934202067214578?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109934202067214578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109934202067214578' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109934202067214578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109934202067214578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/11/flying-water-place.html' title='Flying... water... place'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109924782030364179</id><published>2004-10-31T10:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2004-10-31T10:37:00.303-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Zanybus</title><content type='html'>Yeah, so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was riding on this bus for some reason, I think we were going somewhere special, but I forgot. The bus driver died, or something, and the bus ran out of gas, and me and these 2 chicks had to set up camp in this field. At some point, I left or something, and met up with a bunch of kids from school, I'm assuming. Some of them had driven there, like Nick. We all went back to the field, and the 2 chicks had killed eachother, and there were tombstones. (but the field now had 2 or more buildings, like a lot of time had passed, enough for them to build makeshift buildings anyway.) We all got on the bus, and went to some other place, that was weirdish. It seemed like it was some kind of electronics store or something, but it was flooded like waist high with water, and we just took it over or something. We could hold our breaths seemingly forever, etc. It was pretty funky, and some guys were playing X-Box. Nick left, and I didn't have a ride, and then I eventually woke up! :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109924782030364179?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109924782030364179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109924782030364179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109924782030364179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109924782030364179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/zanybus.html' title='Zanybus'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109909956942188883</id><published>2004-10-29T18:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-29T18:26:09.420-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Visitorz</title><content type='html'>Ok, so I remember coming home from doing something, and finding out that we had alien visitors, and their spaceship was in the middle of the court.  It looked like the ship that the 2d aliens in Aqua Teen Hunger Force had.  I came in through the garage and my mom introduced them to me.  They were quite short, maybe knee high, and were wearing costumes.  One was a duck, and I can't remember what the other was, but they had firm handshakes.  English wasn't their first language, obviously, but they spoke quite well.  I mentioned that I had met another of their kind before (previously in the dream), and they asked what his preference in alcohol was, to which I replied "Tequila."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't remember much else :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109909956942188883?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109909956942188883/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109909956942188883' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109909956942188883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109909956942188883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/visitorz.html' title='Visitorz'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109890674966368479</id><published>2004-10-27T13:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-27T12:52:29.663-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oddity</title><content type='html'>Something about riding on a bus, infiltrating some camp I think, and uh... a leprechaun on a pocket bike.  I'm not sure about this one :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109890674966368479?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109890674966368479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109890674966368479' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109890674966368479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109890674966368479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/oddity.html' title='Oddity'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109882351031741769</id><published>2004-10-26T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-26T13:46:47.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Spiderdog?</title><content type='html'>Let's see..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was something about old Hi-C Ecto Cooler being like some drug, giving us some weirdness, cause for some reason, we had plenty of it :P In my couldesac, a bunch of kids were playing, and there was this new dog, which looked at first like a dog that used to be in the neighborhood, but then my sister said it was called "spiderdog" and it became something else. Like it had 8 eyes and stuff, and it could converse through telepathy. It was pretty threatening... I tried offering it my hand, so it could smell it, which it did, and licked it, but then still got in my way. It got bigger, and ink black. Its ribs were showing. It was freaky. Then it bit my hand, and started shocking me. It shouted at me through its mind certain objects, which I had to say the names of, in pain, and it let go. I ran out into the street, looked back, and it wasn't there. All that was left was a gas can. I looked back later and it was a gas can, with other parts on it, and closer :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A second part of the dream had me on some kind of terrorist task force, where we had to use electricity to trap some kind of super criminal in some school or something, but I don't remember as much of that. Just that we had to be grounded when it hit...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109882351031741769?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109882351031741769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109882351031741769' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109882351031741769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109882351031741769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/spiderdog.html' title='Spiderdog?'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109872732692634592</id><published>2004-10-25T10:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-25T11:02:06.926-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ferry ocean what the crap?</title><content type='html'>Ok, there's like 70 thousand parts to this one. Part was, we were visiting my grandparents, and my cousin Scott arrived with his dad, we were all out in the garage, and Scott was bringing in a case of soda, and he threw it at the ground and it bounced or something, but his mom got upset, his dad thought it was kinda funny, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh, Also, I think we were house-sitting in a different house, and there was some curse on it, or it was just spooky, or something, cause there was something outside that instead of just breaking a window to get in, would use it's nails or something to just cut a piece out of the window. Don't know what it was though..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another part had Nick inviting me to go down to the water (apparently this was summer), and for some reason, all the restaurants down there had canoes or something to rent, and had water all the way up to them, and they had little docks so people canoeing could park there and eat. So we stole a canoe from KFC :P And went over to some island, where we stashed some of our stuff in a department store that had lockers, so we could swim.. Then, uh.. I can't remember who it was, but he was older than me, since it was late, took me for a drive to his new apartment in Seattle for some reason, but when we got to Seattle we didn't go right there, we walked around some used book store, which didn't have very good discounts on boxed sets of movies, for SOME REASON :P. Then we went to his house, and he vanished or something, and I needed to get to the ferry to get home, but his car wouldn't work, so I had to run to it. On the way I stopped at some friend's house to talk, but then I got a ferry schedule there and there was only 7 minutes til the ferry left, so I started hauling ass down there, and I barely caught it I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, at some point, I was visiting the band room at my old Jr. High, and some guy was telling them about how he was stationed in Korea or something, in the military. He was playing some weird bassy stand up instrument that kinda looked like a cabinet of some kind, with a bunch of strings, which apparently also launched missiles. I say that because when he was trying to demonstrate that the missile fit where it does, it fired automatically through the roof which was ALREADY GONE GHASP. They laughed and said they'd already done that before and blew the roof off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, crazy eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109872732692634592?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109872732692634592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109872732692634592' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109872732692634592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109872732692634592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/ferry-ocean-what-crap.html' title='Ferry ocean what the crap?'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109864490404373446</id><published>2004-10-24T13:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-24T12:08:24.043-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Coptard</title><content type='html'>Had a dream about being a cop, like I'd just got hired.  I didn't know what I was doing, so I dicked around for 2 days looking busy and getting payed, then I went somewhere with my partner on the bus, and couldn't figure out how to get back to the station.  Before that, I had a dream where Sephanie O. and I'm assuming her boyfriend came by and picked me up in his friend's "awesome" car that kept falling apart.  Kinda like Justin's RX7 now that I think about it.  Also, I was looking at apartments with Nick and Garrett, but I think Nick was doing his real estate thing :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109864490404373446?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109864490404373446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109864490404373446' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109864490404373446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109864490404373446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/coptard.html' title='Coptard'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109864487950412926</id><published>2004-10-23T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-24T12:07:59.503-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Racerbassist</title><content type='html'>One part of my dream had my at a track with a group of people and a murcielago, another part had an ambulance coming to the neighborhood because the neighbor's friend had a heart attack who happened to be someone I worked with at scantron, ken breerwood.  Then I became the bassist of our band.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109864487950412926?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109864487950412926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109864487950412926' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109864487950412926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109864487950412926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/racerbassist.html' title='Racerbassist'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109865350625791061</id><published>2004-10-21T14:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-24T14:31:46.256-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Modelnapping</title><content type='html'>Had something to do with crazy ninja models, brainwashed / hypnotized like in Zoolander, except it was a hot chick.  Also, they were kidnapped with flypaper, and went to some weird marioesque blocky island in the sky to be brainwashed.  Yeah, it was weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109865350625791061?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109865350625791061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109865350625791061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109865350625791061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109865350625791061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/modelnapping.html' title='Modelnapping'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109864481751121026</id><published>2004-10-20T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-24T12:07:19.113-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stereobike</title><content type='html'>Forgot most of my dream, but remember having a bike that had a stereo system installed in it, mostly with duct tape. Also, Mike and Preston were impressed. I remember accidentally riding down the wrong side of the road in Silverdale, but a car moved over enough for me to get by. Another part of the dream had me with some other guy in some factory doing jumps on a motorcycle down a dark portion of hallway, and the people on guard / working there didn't really care anymore cause they were all caught up with what they were doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109864481751121026?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109864481751121026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109864481751121026' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109864481751121026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109864481751121026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/stereobike.html' title='Stereobike'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8860651.post-109864471333921690</id><published>2004-10-19T13:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2004-10-24T12:05:13.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>PE Crazy</title><content type='html'>Dreamt of visiting Riki, not sure how I got there, but I can remember walking down streets trying to find where I was supposed to meet her.  We met up and hung out, don't remember what we did, but then the dream became more of this school thing, more specifically PE, with Matt there, with some crazy coach that ended up liking little boys or something.  We pretty much harassed him the whole time while uncovering the truth!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8860651-109864471333921690?l=treodream.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/feeds/109864471333921690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8860651&amp;postID=109864471333921690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109864471333921690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8860651/posts/default/109864471333921690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treodream.blogspot.com/2004/10/pe-crazy.html' title='PE Crazy'/><author><name>Jon</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00049534560706798877</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='25' src='http://home.comcast.net/~dassmaster/bandface.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
