You and I were in a huge, white room that seemed to be positioned on the slope of a hill. Instead of carpet there was soft, white, wall-to-wall grass, and along the western wall there was a long row of cafeteria-style tables with built-in seats. Each seat was occupied by some generic, faceless person and everyone was quietly involved in one conversation or another. Then this creepy old man with a shifty eye, rotting teeth, and long, greasy hair began distributing trays of Jell-o and cookies. There were pink, red, purple, green, and orange cubes, arranged in two neat little rows, one or two of each color per tray. The more I think about it, the more certain I am that the trays were actually mini-muffin pans because they were shiny metal and each color giggler rested in its own pocket. Apparently everyone was absolutely famished, we hadn't eaten in days, and so the whole lot of us began chowing down on the much appreciated gelatin snacks. This upset the gross old man and he started foaming at the mouth and screaming at the people that it wasn't the right time; they had to save it for when it would be needed. You had already eaten a square of green and I had eaten all of my purple. This being a dream, purple wasn't grape flavored, instead it tasted like the actual color--which is to say yummy.

There was a bright flash of light (or at least an implied flash of light) and suddenly my ears were crushed with the most awful noise. Everyone was screaming in shrill, operatic tongues and staring wide-eyed at each other with gaping mouths. The old man was cackling away, holding onto his pot belly like Santa Claus, almost convulsing with laughter. He said, "Now! Now is when it's needed, Friends!" and he pointed at our orange Jell-o. Those who had already eaten all their orange had to continue yelling and spitting, the rest of us were cured. Before anyone could thank the old man he was gone and the ground had already begun to shake. The second phase of madness rolled over us, and everyone began to dance uncontrollably. It was horrible.

After a while it began to snow, and the white grass was soon buried under hot, green snow. It didn't feel particularly hot but it was steaming just the same. Excluding the few children who were hiding under the tables, everyone started trying to kill each other. Someone knocked you over while trying to strangle somebody else, and I began suffocating you with snowballs. You kept eating them and I kept trying to make them bigger and more compact. This time, purple Jell-o was the trick (someone who managed to gulp some down during their lunacy was shouting this). You hastily ate your purple but I was out of luck. It didn't matter because the white room and the maniacs all disappeared and I entered Act II of my so very stupid dream. I wasn't really me, though, I was a stretched out version of my ex-coworker, Melissa.

All at once, I knew the following things: the house I was in was alive and evil; I had been living there for years and couldn't leave; and even when it appeared that I had left (i.e. I had a job) I was really only in an extension of the house. There was a sizeable lanai in the middle of the house, and in it was a giant fig tree with twisting branches and a slowly spiraling but stooped over trunk. Grandpa's beard moss was hanging all over it which made it look sickly, but it was also covered in plump, fist-sized figs. I kept jumping up to get them, and when my fingers touched them they would deflate and this yellowish-green goo would ooze out. A tall hispanic guy came out and said, "Hello, would you like one of those?" I said I thought so and he plucked one down for me. "I'm blargity blarg blarg from The Eagles. You should come to Vegas with me. I'll marry you." I was impressed by his easy-going "I can leave the house" attitude, so I hastily agreed. "Well, our plane doesn't leave for a couple of hours or so, let's play my favorite board game." It involved lava in some way although I don't remember how and it was unspeakably boring. We missed our flight.

For Act III I turned into a 35-year-old black mother of three. I also lived in the house and was a nurse in the hospital section. My babysitter was bringing my kids to visit me for my lunch hour when the little rascals ran off. They wanted to take the elevator instead of walking the 7 flights of stairs. The nanny ran after them but the doors shut before she could grab them. They pushed the button for my floor and when it got "there" the elevator opened its doors to a maze of weird, grinding, stinky machines and everything was colored in sepia. The kids were scared and tried getting off at another floor but this time it opened to a what looked like a schoolroom, except everything was wet and covered in seaweed. The next floor they tried it opened up to a hospital, but when they asked the receptionist for their mom she said they were in Los Angeles. The house lost two of the children and then gave me a phony. The receptionist from the "other" hospital said she would put my oldest son (who was probably 6 or 7) on a bus for Seattle but when he got home he was 17 and acted weird. I knew it was the house pretending to be my son and I woke up very uncomfortable. There were several in-between "feeling dreams" but I won't try to describe those or bore you any longer.