*facepalms repeatedly, but in a good way*

Wow. I spent all of last week thinking that our math exam was tomorrow, whereas it’s a week from tomorrow. I’m so glad I’ve been spending all my time on my Film Noir paper and not studying Math.

I am a really, really happy person right now.

Meanwhile, I had a really weird dream, as all my dreams tend to be. My mom was repainting our living room, adding subtle and decorative tribal religious motifs and such. At the moment, she was adding Kokopelli to the main wall. Then, my dad asked me to meet with these two little girls that were the daughters of one of his potential business partners, and he wanted me to take them out to photograph ghosts. I told my dad before the girls arrived that I didn’t have much time to spare, as I was working on my Noir paper, plus lots of other stuff, but he said to meet with them anyway. Only one girl was present, and we talked for a while, and she was really cute, even though I now realize that her appearance was taken from a non-creepified Diane Arbus photograph of twin girls.

After talking about an hour, I started getting antsy, as I needed to get back to work. But she was excited as ever, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. Then, my mom pulled me away, as she wanted to rehearse a three-person piano piece she had planned for herself, me, and my sister for some big event. We three sat down to play, and then I realized that I didn’t know how to play the piano anymore. I kept looking at the keys, expecting them to somehow indicate which note went next. I felt horrible, then felt even worse as I saw my mom and sister’s extreme disappointment in me. Tearing up a bit, I returned to the little girl and told her that we were going to have to reschedule our ghost hunting trip, and she said of course, it’s alright with her, and that I didn’t need to cry about it. I denied that I had been crying, saying that my eyes were just watering.

Then, we suddenly plunged back in time to the 18th century, where my family and (randomly) my friend Julia Tucker-Huth’s family gathered around the piano, where we were holding a friendly voice competition to see who would sing certain songs at a combination party/rebel uprising (I just read the Scouring of the Shire last night, so I guess that’s where that came from). However, I didn’t know the tune of one of the songs they were auditioning me for, so I tried to sightread as well as I could, eventually turning the tune into “Cabaret”. Even though I was totally off tune, my voice sounded great, and all were impressed, so there was much applause. Overjoyed, I ran to my favourite sibling, my older brother, Simon, who looked like Stephen from “Master and Commander” (easy enough, Stephen and Firefly’s Simon Tam are the two doctors I squee over, and I refer to both interchangably with Marcelina as “doctah!”), who was sitting on the couch. He had lost his right hand at the wrist (Master and Commander again, or maybe The Silmarillion), but had since become an excellent blacksmith and swordsman. We hugged tightly, and all was great.

Mum talks about synchronicities and how people in the same dream groups sometimes have the same dreams. I challenge anyone to ever have the same dream as me. :D