yippee, I'm posting again, aren't you all just thrilled?

I promise I'll try to keep this one to a more reasonable length than many of my recent posts. On the other hand, I do have a considerably large dream to narrate, so perhaps I should save the promises for later.

First, let me just say that today Ms. Fish yelled at me for doing needlepoint during class. Two days ago, she congratulated me on being clever enough to have brought something (namely, needlepoint) to do with my hands when they weren't needed for classwork (such as discussion days, when one primarily uses one's mouth, especially if one is an opinionated person such as myself). Why? Really, why?

All right, so I dreamed I was a pirate. Eventually. First I am a fairly normal person on a cruise ship, sitting with Katy and Megan on some lowish deck that is fully enclosed with windows. Extremely reinforced windows, I must assume, because the ship is rocking a lot and significant portions of it, including the windows (are they portholes if they have any sort of nautical persuasion? or is that only if they're those little round ones?) that form the walls and bits of the ceiling of our deck, are underwater a fair amount of the time. Due to the apparently terrible weather conditions, we stop and are transferred to an airplane.

So here I am on the airplane. It is a very petite airplane, and seats aren't so much arranged in rows as they are randomly scattered around. Katy and Megan have vanished somewhere (perhaps they went down with the ship?); I am now accompanied by Dana, my mother, and my cat's veterinarian, who is also Kate's mother (Kate being my harp buddy since age 6 and not to be confused with Katy, who is an entirely different person). I am sitting with my mother. I get bored with her and, without informing her where I'm going, get up and go chat with Dana across the aisle for a little while, then wander off toward the back, toward Kate's mom, to see if there's anything interesting there. In fact, there is - a tiny "upper deck," basically just a shelf with some chairs on it, which I climb up to via a metal ladder and sit on cheerfully. The plane becomes a train, then a cavern. The upper deck I have been sitting on is now a little ledge that seems to have been carved out by a former waterfall or something. On the ground, about ten feet below me, pirates on motorcycles surround my ledge.

At about this time, I notice that I, too, am a pirate on a motorcycle. (Pirates on motorcycles? Don't ask me. I'm afraid you'll have to talk to my subconscious about that one.) Cleverly, I magically and instantaneously descend to ground level, where I discover that I am in fact in a house, and start racing around the house, pursued by the other pirates, who are apparently evil pirates. Somewhere along the way, I seem to have picked up two small teenaged girls (yes, on the same motorcycle as me), who are the true targets of the evil pirates. We zip around, accumulating other good pirates from random corners - yes, we are still all on one motorcycle - and it becomes apparent that all the pirates, including myself, are some sort of phantoms. We push the small teenagers forward in the crowd hanging off the end of the motorcycle until they're in a position to take over driving so that they can escape even if we, their protectors, are, I don't know, turned into ectoplasm or something.

Eventually, we go out the back door of the house, which we have passed on multiple other occasions without making use of it (apparently phantom pirates on motorcycles are not especially clever), around, and out into the street. We now appear to be safe. Hurrah. And I wake up to the sound of my cat trying to open the bedroom door.

Any amateur interpretations of this one? Aaron? You're usually good at this sort of thing...

Hey, look on the bright side. At least this one didn't involve talking buffalo or miniature livestock.