i had won a makeover and went to collect at a big hotel. it soon became clear that there was a mystery. no makeover was forthcoming, that was certain. fortunately, i was befriended by several of the hotal employees who slipped me innocent-seeming flowers with notes attached which gave me clues to the mystery, all of which centered around the forbidden 21st floor. I managed to make it to the 21st floor though I missed out on finding the right area to shed light on the mystery. Knowing that I could always throw the hotel management on the defense by proving that they had no intention of EVER giving me the makeover, i felt well armed to deal with any challenges.

I sneaked up to the 21st floor, with a friend, though once there, I got very distracted by the filthy stoves there, with baked-on grease. I found a spray bottle of cleaner and decided that whether I was caught or not in my attempt to solve the mystery, it was worth it to just take a moment to clean up.

I'm crossing the Bay bridge, but it's got escalators that are closed. I find myself in a dusty office food court, and intersecting and remembering parts of myself from when I was very young. I meet up with an old friend of my mother's, and on a bulletin board next to us find three cds I apparantly made to give out last year. But when we watch one of the CDs, it's also a film, and the film shows my bookshelves as a child - and somehow brings back to me a whole lot of memories which are not even mine. Memories of a sewing machine, a very simple one, which I owned, with an old price tag from Greenfield's for $23, with threads I used to own, and on the CDs are movies I loved...one of which I was in, a movie which was like a Sound of Music, but different. All these memories are bringing up random real memories but are also bringing up fascinating memories which are not mine. Friends I didn't have, jobs I didn't hold, and a sense of past and present meshing perfectly. I am trying to grab onto the knowledge of the past me as if it was a liferaft. In the film I took, I see the camera pan across a bookshelf and I remember most of the books, and the ones I cannot remember seem to be the most direct sort of clue to my present happiness. I see a book called Bread Cake. I see a book about Anne Boleyn. I see a sewing machine and remember hours spent on it, as the stories I read of other children sewing become me sewing.

I once had a dream that I was falling. I know that sounds so
cliché but it is true. It was kind of like I was in a Roadrunner cartoon.

Only it was real life, not cartoon like, just the setting had the same
things as that cartoon.

So I was at the edge of a cliff and then I started to fall. I started falling and I was going really fast and the crazy thing about this whole dream was that I could actually feel myself falling, the sensation that you get in your spine when you fall and the wind whipping fast around you.

It was so real I woke up like in the midst of the falling I guess that is why I can remember the sensation so well.

i was in my grandmother's house, my entire extended family was there, my grandmother was alive still, but her house had been terribly neglected since she had been presumed dead for several years. i was helping to get things together, repair damage,etc. i also had several friends staying there and i had to integrate them into the family. i found many interesting things stored around the house, secret caches of old hankies and related items. it was like when we were sitting shivah for my grandmother and explored her house, but with even more treasures, and with her there to show the found objects to.

My friend looks at me and asks, "What is this tattoo that you have around
your left wrist?"

I look down, so that I can explain it to him. In fancy script writing,
going around the bony perimeter of my wrist it says, "It is only my _____
that will destroy me."

There was a word in the blank, but it was fuzzy and I couldn't make it out.
What was the word that was in the blank? I'm still trying to figure it out.

My boyfriend, friend and I were wandering around an old New Orleans type of red light district, with cobblestone streets and old brick buildings, wooden shutters, peddlars on the corners, hocking their wares, a tiny bit seedy but not really pornographic enough to be lewd. We reached our communal home and were approached by a film crew who asked us if we wanted to participate in a "Haunted Night Sleepover" reality show and the prize was a brand new house. I jumped at the thought but with knowing reservation of what it would entail. Unlike so many of these 'disbeliever-screamers' who plague these types of shows with their mindless chatter and crocodile tears once they hear a bump in the darkness, I have seen and felt ghosts before. It is real and when you invite the haunting, you never know what you will get.

The Haunted Night was to take place in Knotts Berry Farm, or some amusement park similar to it. It was the Mandonna crew mainly, but I distinctly remember Hugh, Mark and myself doing it. Mark was to sleep in a field where some bloody battle took place, Hugh was to sleep in the mechanical room where all the rides are operated from, and I was to sleep in the Roaring 20's Pavillion, resplendid in its faded and torn, red velvet drapes, historic photos all dangling crookedly from the walls, with dark and narrow corridoors and maze-like rooms. Part of the deal was that I had to clean the pavillion first, because it was very old and musty and hadn't been used in a long time.

We were supposed to be preparing for the night by getting our provisions together and meditating so that a protective shield came over us, but when the camera panned to the boys, they were in the midst of some Burning Man type of bonfire, dancing around like drunken goons and then, we were all put on the back of a flatbed truck and driven to the Haunted Site. I watched us standing there like 3 lone silhouettes heading into the sunset as the truck we were standing on rolled away. It had begun. I, for one, was not ready.

When I arrived at the Pavillion, Hugh was already there cleaning the bathroom. It was a stark white bathroom with a very long row of toilet stalls. I was grateful Hugh had done this part of the cleaning and I think he rather enjoyed doing it, being close to all these men. I knew then, as if in a vision, that the Pavillion had been the fraternity house of many men, "Dandies" from the Roaring 20's with their hair slicked back, in fine tuxedos and shiny black patent leather shoes. I checked the stalls, one by one, sensing "them" behind the doors. Some of the toilets spat up and gurgled. I expected it and told "them" to calm down, that we were just trying to clean things up a bit and make their home nicer. I wandered around a bit in the musty rooms and found one girl's room, painted in pink. I found 2 halves of a broken, plastic doll house and it reminded me of why I was there, to win a house of my own. I heard "them" whispering and felt them moving about ever so slowly. My hair on my neck was standing up, I rushed out to the main lobby to breathe. It was not even dark yet and I knew it was going to be a long night.

Mark and a couple others came in then and we hugged. He was headed out to the Battle Field but seemed unconcerned. Hugh was already on his way to the Mechanic's Room. I told them that this place really was haunted and that I was being followed already. I began meditating/praying for protection and decided to sleep in the conservatory-looking lobby where I could see outside and others could see me. I did not want to go back through the red velvet drapes dripping with golden tassles but was intrigued that suddenly, though initially tattered and faded, were now bright, new and deeply rich looking. I guess I was "drawn" back in, because I was in the humidor lounge, wiping the tables, bussing away ashtrays and drinking glasses that had magically appeared, with bourbon stained ice still melting in the glass. I was talking to "them," thanking them for being so patient with us. They seemed to joke tenderly with me. I was "shown" back to the one girl's room I had found before and to my surprise it was also new looking, the bed was made with fresh linens, the dollhouse was fixed and there were billowy curtains and fresh flowers waiting for me. I layed down in the bed and was almost lulled to sleep, but I thought better of it and decided to leave the room before I could not find my way back anymore. I felt much easier in the Pavillion that I had before, more normal. I wandered into the kitchen and saw that it was still old and run down. I could still hear their voices but it seemed more conversational now. They were telling me a story about the beautiful woman that used to live here, it was about me... That I was spoken for, but fell inlove with another man, one of the Dandies here, maybe several of them.

I was washing dishes, trying to focus on the task to keep from being freaked out, reminding myself to just be calm. They were in the kitchen with me, but I must have heard a strikingly familiar voice, because as if suddenly frozen in time and then re-animated, I slowly turned my head over my left shoulder to look behind me. As I did so, my face and hair sublety morphed into "her." I had a cupie-doll face, khol-rimmed eyes, red lipstick, pin-waved blonde hair in a bob at my chin and a beaded choker around my throat. I sashayed into the humidor lounge again where old-timie music was playing on the Victrola and though I professed to not know how to dance, I began wildly dancing the Charleston like a puppeted rag doll, my long pearl necklace flying about. I was throwing back shots of bourbon and laughing, dancing, singing cabaret style. I was "Belle", or as the Dandies called her, "Belle of the Ball" and I knew I used to be the famous cabaret starlett who lived and performed at the Pavillion and who had numerous love affairs with the Dandies. They were all there now, I could see them clearly, some sitting, some standing, some twirling me about. Wild dancing turned into bodies draping on each other and steamy kissing... The next thing I knew I was lying naked on the banquette while tuxedoed Dandies swarmed my body, kissing me, licking, me, fucking me. It was pure heaven and I was orgasming again and again. I wondered what the cameras were filming... could they see them too? Or did they just see me dancing by myself in the silent darkness and masterbating on the banquette? All the while the music and good times roared on until it sounded like a freight train fading into the distance and the glare of the morning light warmed my body and slowly woke me up... it was all groggy still though and the music was fading to silence. I wondered if I was dead because I knew they had struggled with wanting me to stay with them forever, to have their precious Belle back. But the good of the order decided against taking me before my time. They had set me free to win my house which is what Belle had always dreamed of but never achieved before she died, hence the dollhouse in her room. They whispered, 'Good bye Love" and "We'll miss you" as the white noise of the morning washed in and washed them out. The film crew was arriving, I woke up, wanting more.

I visited some friends - my boyfriend from when I was 19 was there. We were all 19 - seemed to be in some alternate reality from my past, while sensing and experiencing that past as my present self.

Everyone wanted to talk and I headed home. I put on my dead father's suit jacket and jumped into the river, which was in wild hills like San Francisco, but of a huge depth. Getting near the edge, you could see the drop. Many people were also riding on the river similarly, each politely avoiding collision with each other--as if this was the normal method of transport. At times I veered dangerously close to the edge and someone would kindly make way for me.

I was on a ship, and pirates were looting it---taking over. The whole time I was experiencing the pirate ship, it was taking place concurrently in a storybook.

I met my old boyfriend again, he was fat and gray now. I was now back in the original house from the start of the dream.

I was searching madly for clean socks.

I was dirty. Everything was dirty.

There are women around me, old friends - from different times in my life. One a blonde, a punk rock chick, and another one. In the dream they have long and very sharp nails. I am conscious that they are vampires and am alert and trying to avoid them without letting them know I'm on to them. The way they gain power and food is by sinking their long nails into your skin. I'm able to avoid them and the scene morphs into my mother's kitchen.

We're making a pot of goulash. I end up finding myself in a bad neighborhood, all the parts of my car are sitting on the street, detached from each other. I'm sitting on a pile of junk that was once a car. I'm forced to leave the car and find a ride home. I end up getting on a bus. The scene morphs into a yacht. I'm attached to waterskis like a balloon on a string, flying along.

I was in a rental car, approaching a conference center/hotel where I was heading for a business meeting.

I was wearing ridiculous clothes for business, a fifties petticoat topped by a long, tie-dyed dress. Somehow, it worked, but I knew it was inappropriate. I also was driving inappropriately, sitting in the back seat and steering by holding onto the brake. I somehow was able to follow the curves in the road by sheer will; however, when I pulled into the hotel, I was unable to land neatly where the valet was waving me in. Playing it cool, I got myself out of the backseat, hoping nobody would notice that I was driving all wrong.

They brought my suitcases into the hotel, where I found a large, beautiful suite. I decided to explore, wandering through unoccupied suites, and upon my return to the front desk, found that the route to my room had disappeared and i was directed to go down an airport-style moving sidewalk to it.

Returning to my room, I found it occupied by six dudes. They nicely prepared me a meal of pizza but topped the pizza with a big handful of raw chicken even though I screamed "NO!".

I explored the suite and found a ton of stuff that made it appear that they had been living there for years. I took that in stride as well, I mean, this whole hotel experience had been strange, so what was strang-er about finding that my room belonged to some guys. I figured they just resided there and had nicely vacated for me.

Wandering around again, I found myself in a museum, where it resembled the hotel a hundred years past, with a maid unpacking dressed for an unseen guest.

I realized I was in a museum branch of the hotel and got back to my room, where the pizza was cooking away along with some brochettes.

These guys were at least cookiog for me.

I had gone to a witch to have her perform a magical ceremony. She asked me what my heart's desire was and proposed a magical ceremony to achieve it. My two young brothers were there and set out on this journey she proposed.

First we made two cakes of a rough grain. The cakes contained magical properties and needed to be carried with us on our journey. We needed to journey through the woods at night with no fear. We then would plunge the cakes, and ourselves, into a pond at the end of the journey, when the healer said we had reached our target.

The journey went through hotel lobbies, through scuba diving in indoor swimming pools, on boats, and single file through a forest and mountain path. I was fearful and walked behind the healer and before my brother.

At the time we reached the pond at the journey-end, we got into the pond and the healer morphed into a man, who asked me many probing questions, making me very nervous about what I had gotten myself into. I looked to my two small brothers but they seemed fine, happy and not paying particular attention.

We completed the ceremony and I woke, not knowing whether this was yet a success.