I had a dream where my legs were arms, and my arms were legs, but my legs were where my arms were supposed to be, and my arms were where my legs were supposed to be, and I had to play in a piano recital. But the thing is, I haven't played piano in a while, so I was pretty rusty. I begin playing and everyone is embarrassed for me and for a few other people who look like me. Someone yells “Nice concerto, whatta ya have athletes’ hands? Get it! Like athlete’s foot.” I try to press on, but I’m concerned that I’m not going to make it all the way through because my leg arms are falling asleep.

A rabbit is berating me for drinking too much. I can't believe it, calling him a hypocrite for eating too many carrots. It's not the same thing, he insists. I explain that we all have vices and I don't fault him for eating carrots. He explains that my vice is obnoxious while his is high in Vitamin A. I explain that since vitamin A is fat-soluble, disposing of any excesses taken in through diet is much harder than with water-soluble vitamins B and C, thus vitamin A toxicity may result. This often leads to nausea, jaundice, irritability, anorexia (not to be confused with anorexia nervosa, the eating disorder), vomiting, blurry vision, headaches, hair loss, muscle and abdominal pain and weakness, drowsiness and altered mental status. All of which are annoying to me.
He got all up in my face. So I rabbit slapped him. It was super slow, as in all my dreams when I am physically violent I seem to do it at 1/2 speed. It's not very effective.
I woke up shortly after craving carrot cake, even though I know acute toxicity generally occurs at doses of 25,000 IU/kg of body weight, with chronic toxicity occurring at 4,000 IU/kg of body weight daily for 6–15 months. So I didn't have any.

I show up to my high school, and I'm naked, but so is everyone else, and the school is clothed. Like the chairs have shirts and the tables all have mock turtlenecks. And I wasn't embarrassed, no one was. Well, we were all a little embarrassed for the furniture. I mean, a few of the couches looked like they stepped out of 1985. Hey yo. I wake up suddenly to the the sound of a slap bracelet.

I’m looking in the mirror, but instead of my reflection it’s Ted Danson with a handlebar mustache. He/I look good for my age. I decide to do something youthful. I then remember commissioning a half pipe made of whole pipes, smoking pipes, and deciding it’s too expensive. I feel I’m not old enough to make any adult decisions. My mother is there, and she tells me that I wasn’t a mistake, but more of a mishap. I ask her how this is better and she forces applesauce in my mouth. Then I wake up.

I’m having sex with a headless woman but her head is on a chair on the corner watching us, giving us dirty looks. The head mouths the words “disappointing,” and “seeeeeen it.” I’m embarrassed but try to press on. It’s not worth it and I finally give up, not knowing who to apologize to, the headless woman or the body. I end up half apologizing to both and both seem angry, the head of the woman because she rolls her eyes and the body because she crosses her arms and generally has body language that indicates as much. I try to leave the room but the door has become very small, and as I crouch down to fit through my pants rip, as well does my shirt and my hat. I’m embarrassed again, and now the head begins laughing and the body is slapping its knees. I scream at the head to stop being so mean, the body slaps me, and then I pretend to take the head’s nose, and tell the body that, and because the body can’t see anything, it believes me and chases me round the room. We both collapse from exhaustion and have a good laugh. Until I make a crass joke about putting a bag over the body and having sex with the head, which isn’t well received and I immediately feel bad about saying it. Then I woke up suddenly, sweating but only around my neck area.

I open a convenience store in Delaware but all of our shelves are too tall. No one can reach them without a ladder or help from a stocky young stock boy named Scott. We sell step stools, but they’re on the third shelf, which is roughly 20 feet in the air. I try to jimmy rig brooms with coat hangers, but the twine is on the 2nd level in Aisle Sleven. That’s another problem. The numbers of the aisles are all made up. Light bulbs and Snickers are on aisle Poonannynine. Customers begin to complain, and my suggestion box is on top of a paper shredder and doesn’t have a bottom to the box, so I can’t figure out what they’re complaining about. My head cashier has a baby there in the store, and the baby offers us all cigars. Before I can ask if the baby had a baby, we smoke, toasting the newborn and the sprinklers go off. Instead of water it’s Good n’ Plenty and I jokingly say “I’ve had good an plenty enough of these sprinklers. You know what I mean? Because of the candy? I’m referring to the candy that is raining down on us. It’s a play. A play on words. You know? Regarding the terrible licorice candy that is raining down on us from above like a sweet, sweet apocalypse.” One person laughs, but I find out he was thinking of a joke he heard yesterday about nuns on skateboards. Then I wake up.

Nightmare last night. I am in Chicago, and I want to stay longer. I have forgotten that we are supposed to drive on the right side of the street because I’ve been in New Zealand so long. If I can stay longer, I can go to Sundance, which has music and I can perform with Nick Thune in a Marriott Courtyard. I have mixed feelings about this. Ben Affleck’s ex-girlfriend approaches me in a movie theater where she makes fun of me for sniffling and snorting so much. I am embarrassed but it’s clearly a way to approach me romantically. I’m confused. I’m worried that I haven’t called my girlfriend because I missed my flight back to Los Angeles, and I’m afraid she’ll be mad. We’ve been fighting because she wants to laminate all the dried rose petals from the flowers I’ve given her and strew them all around the bed. I insist this will lead to small paper type cuts. I’m going back to high school to finish some sort of program and all my old friends are there. I’m in a class with a teacher that is sort of like Mr. Madison but looks different, he also looks like a music teacher I used to have. We are verbally sparring, but at my age and in my current profession he can’t kick me out and everyone is laughing. Also I am better at walking the line and not taking it too far—he thinks he is being funny too because of how I am manipulating the situation. The whole classroom looks like it’s in a huge Borders bookstore. Afterwards the hallways are crowded and I try to talk to him to smooth it out. All the water fountains shoot water high enough that you can stand while you drink from them. Antoine, a very cool black kid from high school who is now a DJ says what’s up and that I’m funny. I still crave his approval, and say thank you calling him A tone. He corrects me (this is obviously from a recent mishap with a comedian in my real life) and I try and say I thought his DJ name was “DJ A Tone.” Before I know it he is on a school bus and I am chasing along side of him saying how much it meant to me in High School that he was so funny and that I thought he and Felix Abrams and a couple other of the guys who weren’t in all my classes (they weren’t in X Classes) were all so funny and I would tell them that and that was so cool and even back then I was thinking of humor critically and then his bus gets too far ahead of me. I decide to email him instead of running along side the bus. After all, I did get his email at the high school reunion. Then I wake up.