I found a voice memo in which I described this dream. Listening, I remember it, but I no longer feel the dream. It was a powerful dream then, and now it just seems like a story:

I dreamt of a collective unconsciousness. There were a thousand of us maybe. All of our minds, pooled together, to lay the smallest of hand on a frozen child. Together, we gently opened her mouth, maybe a quarter of an inch, and called it victory.

I think it was like reiki, we pooled the energy of the universe to try to save her.

I woke at dawn, as usual, but then went back into heavy sleep. I was a grifter, in a family of grifters. We were running a scam that involved scanning cell phone conversations from a device called an Oculus. I was carrying the Oculus in a black bag, the rest of the family all had their roles. At one point we were in a park, and then in a car — we were traveling, and stopped at a motel. All of the bags were in the hallway, by the elevator, as we sorted out our rooms. I was supposed to keep an eye on the Oculus at all times, but I must have gotten distracted, and it was missing. I went into my room — a suite, really, with a couple of rooms — and two bad guys followed me in. They were menacing, threatening, but not overtly at first. They were searching for the Oculus and I thought they already had it, but they kept asking me about it. One was youngish, a thug, overweight and shiny, and he leered at me and leaned in to kiss me. It was clearly about power, and intended as an assault. I knew I couldn’t get away, but I also couldn’t resist because they had the Oculus and I needed it back, so I tried to accept it as passively as I could under the circumstances. It was awful. He made some awful comment, I don’t remember now, and they left. I realized he had hacked my Facebook account and put up some crazy posts, and I started to delete them but realized I was late for family dinner, so I changed and went back into the hallway and met up with my (dream) mom. Somewhere in there, there was also something about a swimming pool, but I forget what now. Mom was happy to see me and I took her arm to escort her down to the dining hall. I was able to confide to her everything that happened, and she was helping me plan what to do next when I woke up.

Awake, I realized that in my dream, I was young, maybe 20s, and that it was the first time I could remember having a dream where my POV was completely invested but I was a different age. My dream mom was probably my actual current age. She was awesome. I also still felt a little like I’d been sexually assaulted.

I could have easily been with either the French Boy or K. tonight but I chose not to. I’m still doing exactly what I didn’t want to be doing — playing social director for a bunch of people who couldn’t figure out how to make plans on their own — but the truth is, they are my peeps and I do love them all. And I just couldn’t be bothered to be on a date tonight, none of them are special enough and I did not want to send the wrong message. If I happen to pick up a date along the way of the evening, well, what can I say? it’s been that kind of year. But if not, I’m okay with ending the year alone, this time by choice. (although I will admit here, my admitting place, that I also chose not to change the sheets, instead just used my ironing spray, so I will sleep tonight amidst the scent of lavendar and young French boy… perchance to dream of love in the coming year. perhaps I am ready.)

I don’t remember the whole dream – it was the night before’s already – but the end of it is I find a condom by the bed and when I go to pick it up, I find ex-ex S. hiding under the bed. That’s so creepy.

I don’t remember the rest of the dream but here’s how it ends: I have to take a giant bite of this big fluffy dandelion weed looking marshmallowy thing, and I just know it’s going to be gross but I know I have to do it, and I cry, ‘but I just wanted Ginny here when I had to do it,” but she isn’t and so I take a big giant totally gross bite of it and it melts awfully in my mouth.

the night before: airplane dreams, this one weird, like one of those old-fashioned fantasy chubby prop planes. We were barely able to get seats, typical dream confusion and rushing. It was at the top of the hill – needed, apparently, for us to get airborne.

then last night: mary and I have somehow stolen a police cruiser. we take it through a toll booth, slowly, another car to our side masking us, but then we can’t figure out if it’s okay to have run the toll. i can’t remember if we go back or not, but we end up out at phil and karen’s, the green house. they’re not there but stewart is, and tom m. from the old job (who, by the way, I barely know) is making me a steak dinner. mary and i can’t decide if it’s okay to leave the cruiser parked out front and go to move it, run into the neighbors who have kids. maybe we’ll put it in the garage next door instead, they’re not home.

oh, and somewhere in last night’s dream was the plane again. I remember thinking, that’s the plane from last night’s dream.

The other night I dreamt that I was taking care of someone’s baby, probably about a year old. She was crying and I started talking to her like I do with babies, like they’re sane and sentient. And then she answered – in full sentences. Still sort of like you’d imagine a baby would talk, but fully conversational.

Last night I dreamt that b-boy texted me and asked if I was on foursquare, wanted to confirm it was my usual login (which I don’t think he actually knows). Had to check my phone when I woke up to be sure it was a dream.

I’m sensing a trend here. In this one, I’m crashing at someone’s house on Houston St. It’s a real house, not an apt. In the morning we’re all getting up and tiptoeing around, turns out we’re not supposed to be there. And it’s a massage parlor, a skeezy one at that. We sort of get caught so I end up outside at the bus shelter with the masseuse. Neither the massage nor the sex it leads to are that good and I think, ‘aren’t you supposed to be a professional?’

Bad Annie had a bad dream. The kind where you do bad things.

My friend and I were going hiking on an overnight trip. We stopped at this low-rent hotel where we’d apparently been before (some of our stuff was in the drawers). My friend reminds me that we have to leave right away to make sure we hit the scramble while it’s still light, but of course I then have to pee first.

This part of the dream gets boring and I hesitate to note to the gentle reader that I often have this kind of dream, searching for a toilet but it’s dirty or busy or whatever. Whatever. Let’s skip the psychoanalysis for now.

I finally succeed and return to the room — and it’s almost dark outside, my friend is mad and lying on the bed. I apologize but I know I’ve fucked up, essentially ruined the whole trip. I sit down on the bed and note that if it’s already this dark we weren’t going to make it anyway. He says yeah, he knows, but he’s just pissed. I acknowledge it silently, close my eyes, and realize he’s kissing the top of my head. What? This has never happened before, he’s married, we’re not that kind of friends. I open my eyes and he’s looking at me, and then he’s kissing me for real, a little gentle and exploratory but unmistakably a real kiss. WTF. I kiss back mostly out of reflex but there’s a weird emotionality to it and my first thought is, well, we can’t take this back.

and I’m up. nervous – twitchy like a teenager in a scary movie. It’s like there’s some sound I can’t identify, I can’t hear it now, but I think it woke me up. Bad dreams? maybe. something has me deeply unsettled. I give in, get up.