In the dream, I exercised my kinesthetics controlling the movement of oscillating fans. Brought someone into to show my newfound power and could no longer demonstrate. Then I claimed some woman pulled a gun on me. But she did not pull a gun on me. Kids say the darnedest things. In someone else’s dream, I got up on stage and shouted obscene phrases, exactly what, they would not reveal—only lyrics from a Boards of Canada album were revealed, which is a trip considering most of these were originally thought to be trashcan beats with little spats of oxygen soaking up a spill. I cannot stand behind the statements made by Austin, TX, who I think still, mostly, are a bunch of bitches in this great great land ruined by government, and yes, religion. And if you don’t pay a people much, you don’t show you care for them, they either don’t get up the strength to express what is at the heart, or just the opposite: they come back tipping the scale with a vengeance. Your system is flawed and the joke’s on you. Apparently, I fill dreambooks up. Guestbooks got lame long ago.