Doing time for short skirts and hijinks on the bus

My old friend Popi and I were on the bus, wearing short skirts and being really obnoxious. There were some old ladies nearby who were getting particularly crabby.

Later, it was clear that we had been very naughty on the bus and were going to get into trouble. I ended up at a trial where the old ladies described our transgressions.

I knew that what we did was not a big deal, and was hoping for a chance to defend myself. But when I started to speak, the judge said that we both had to go to jail.

I was astounded that girlish misbehaviour could have such a harsh punishment. I began to wonder just what it was like to be in jail and how I would handle it. In the next scene, I was in a jail cell, bored and confounded that my life had come to this...

Does more sleep = more dreams and a higher I.Q.?

After something like three years of less-than-perfect sleep, last week everyone in our house -- age one to 43 -- began to sleep all night.

It's beautiful... to wake up at 6 a.m., think it's the middle of the night and then realize: "OMG... I actually slept all night."

I'm waiting for the corresponding leap in my I.Q.... and the realization that maybe we've all been mentally retarded for the past three years.

Or... does lost sleep damage you forever? If that's the case, then add it to the list of irrevocable damages I've inflicted on myself. What's done is done.

Oh yeah, and all this to say, get ready for a fresh crop of dreams...

Visiting the heart of the festival

I was at some kind of giant festival, with lots of crazy things going on, when I got a glimpse into the inner circle. I climbed a fence and looked down on a vast, grassy farm.

High above the grass, young people in twos and threes were swinging on giant, wooden swings. There were little gardens, high in the trees. Each garden was rough hewn, but lovingly cultivated on little tree balconies.

I knew that I was witnessing something very special and I wanted to be a part of it. I also understood that these people earned all these pleasures: the garden, the swings... They worked hard.

I so badly wanted to know more that I scaled the fence and jumped down into the grass on the other side. The festival behind me seemed empty compared to what I was about to experience.

I followed a path to the farmhouse and went inside. There were animals and gardens inside the house. It was a kind of commune, with nice, wholesome kids tending animals and preparing vegetables.

An old woman greeted me, and I understood that this was the true heart of whatever good things the festival had to offer. And I knew that these kids worked hard, year round, to build their paradise.

And I knew that I didn't belong, but was welcome to earn my place there if I worked hard, not to be part of the festival but because I was part of something bigger.