A couple nights ago I had a dream that I went to get my ears pierced by Eddie Murphy. He was very accomodating and patient, and spent many minutes dissuading me from going through with it.

From 2/1:

• I was at the salad bar in the Greenery [the cafeteria at my school], standing in front of John Leguizamo. I was talking to him and he gave me a vial of pink liquid. I poured some of it into a glass of water. It fizzed up and became strawberry soda. I walked away from the salad bar and then thought, regretfully, "I should have complimented him on Super Mario Brothers the Movie."

• I was in an upscale suburban home that may have been mine. I was in Doom - doors were opening of their own volition, little flying robots hovered around shooting me and I could sense monsters lurking around. I had expended most of my ammo so I was down to my infinite-ammo blaster. I crept around corners targeting the robots and destroying them.

I walked up the stairs and found a little girl in one of the rooms. I was apparently her mother, though I had temporarily turned into David, the long-haired, bearded metal fan from the dorm. I awkwardly consoled her, wondering when she was going to figure out I wasn't her mom.

• I was watching comic movie shorts called "Doom." In the first one, a small, black dog (a poodle, I think) was swimming through a pool. Wacky music was playing. A female dog appeared in the water in front of him to distract him but he bypassed her. Laughter. The dog made it to his goal: a giant, female poodle five times his size whom he immediately started mating with. Laughter. Credits.

The next one was a film of Dwayne from Little Miss Sunshine in the form of a giant, black and yellow amorphous creature who spewed amiable catchphrases.

From 1/30:

I was with friends in a very dark forest at night. I walked off into the darkness with David [Mebane] with a great sense of mischief.

I was climbing up a spiral staircase. When I reached the top, I was at the top of a tower overlooking a vast swath of forest far, far below.

Above me was the entrance to a room containing many books. There was a gap in the floor, through which I could see the distant tops of trees. I tried to reach the room but was too frightened by the height to make it. In my aborted attempt to jump the gap, I somehow brought many of the books tumbling to the floor in disarray. An older woman in glasses nimbly climbed her way into the room and politely began rearranging the books. I thought of her as a librarian.

I left the scene, going back to the forest where friends communed in a joyous, wild spirit. That's not a euphemism for sex - it's just a feeling.

• I was at a party. I noticed a girl sitting or lying on the floor. I walked up to her and noticed there was something wrong with her ear. When I looked closer, I realized that her ear had been pulled so that it angled off of her head grotesquely. Somehow, I was responsible for her ear.

Later, I was standing on Red Cedar with Grant. It was down by where it intercepts Scripps Lake Drive, across from Miramar Ranch. There was a big-rig making a three-point turn in the street. I kept running dangerously close to it, almost expecting to get seriously injured.

In a tree above the street, I noticed a falcon perched on a branch. I called Grant over and we watched it hunt birds. The falcon had metallic green patterning on its breast, like a hummingbird.

When I got closer, I realized that the falcon was actually a hardbound coffee table book about the Sixties. I named it Bob Dylan.