Dream to start four days off: People at work are having their houses robbed. In one case, we know the robber is a common thief. In the second, we know the robber may be among us. We sit in the house and wait for the strike. I may have a bat. Work stress much?

A dream between 5 and 8 a.m. today — when I woke up to fix a typo I'd made at work yesterday and when I woke up for good – that managed to combine most of this blog's summer yet somehow not Mike Mussina:

I was in some kind of small class, playing Pole Position on a full arcade game, with the machine spitting out quarters as I kept winning races, but no one in the room noticed and I seemed to be keeping up with what the teacher was saying. Somehow I end up at an afterparty or concert where Springsteen and half the band were playing through some kind of work connection. Bruce played a few opening chords from Incident to warm up, but I didn't notice any other songs. Little Steven was banging on the drums. Bruce introduced a couple extra members of the band, two brunettes on the left side of the stage, joking about the first one's chest (she laughed) and introducing the second girl by her ancestral country, causing a blonde member of the crowd with the same roots to get confused and jump up on stage, thinking Bruce was introducing her. He politely ignored her as she stood directly in front of him until we pulled her away. As Bruce came off stage, he summoned me to the side of the club and said, "When I introduce Neuharth, you yell, 'Free Hank Hill!'" I said, "Because that was the crazy presidential candidate Neuharth always liked?" Yep, Bruce replied, I said sure, and he walked backstage. But as I stood around, there appeared to be no next party or second part of the concert.  I wondered if something was going to happen the next day because Neuharth was getting up there in years and was probably a morning person now. Then I woke up.

I had a dream last night that I was working on a story and ended up in a box in a New York river. The river was moving quickly, so I tipped out of the box and headed for shore, but didn't get very far. I went under a low iron bridge and swam myself myself against one of the downstream pilings. The river gave a quick dip after a ways, so I let go and swam for shore, making it this time.

Someone's house was right on the river. The river ran right by the foundation. I climbed out of the water and into their laundry room, which was missing an outside wall. I knocked on the door, and a woman came to the door and let me. I explained who I was and whom I worked for, and she was clearly used to soaking wet people turning up in her laundry room. She let me stop in, and her family's little black dog ran around my feet. We went through the living room, into the hallway, and I looked at the photos on the wall and table. There was a kid in a picture who looked almost like my brother. Just a little different. The kid was sitting in a rowboat.

I asked about him, and it turned out my family was related to theirs. Some great-grandfather's cousin or sibling on my dad's side. The kid was the woman's son. Just then, he walked through the room, and he looked like his photo. It turned out our families had all come from Pennsylvania's Fort Ontario.

The end.

Googling now, I learned Fort Ontario is in New York.

Last night I dreamed I was in the Winter Olympics. Jeff was also in the Winter Olympics. There were no opening ceremonies or uniforms, but we were standing on a mountain road next to a warehouse-like building. As we stood there, a yellow tram drove by, carrying tourists. On the front of the tram, there was a snowplow with a picture of an avalanche on it.

Jeff and I then turned to walk inside the building. "I'm signed up for skating," I said. "I don't even skate that well." I wasn't even sure if I was signed up for ice or speed skating. "I know, man," said Jeff, "I know."

Walking in, we discovered we were actually there for the basketball team, with that sports somehow having joined the Winter Games. I asked Jeff if this meant we should just pass the ball to Shaq the whole time, and then I woke up.

I was at a NASCAR race — you could tell by the size of the crowd — but there were Indy cars on the track. I was down at pit road.

For the Star-Spangled Banner, the announcer said they'd sing the song a little differently that day. The Something Mountain Boys and the Somethings weren't there to sing it, so he was going to have his nephew sing it if he did a good job at the concession stands that day.

I apparently was the nephew. But before I could get a microphone and start singing, the whole crowd started to sing. So I sang along where I was standing on pit road.

That's the last time I eat Uno's right before going to bed.

In a dream last night, my roommate and I did not live in Evanston, Ill. We lived in sunny Florida. We did not live, either, on the third floor. Instead, we lived in a high-rise, somewhere in the upper parts. Living in a Florida high-rise as we did, our apartment was far nicer than the one we actually have. (Tracy, for one, would be glad for that.)

But all of this is just to set up why the Bush brothers had the apartment across the elevators from us. One day Amit and I were sitting in our living room with Nameless/Faceless Neighbor, just making conversation. Then there came a knock at the door! I went and answered it, and there were the Bush brothers. Jeb, George W. and another one.

They were chasing a dog around the marble and glass elevator area. Finally, remembering he had rung the doorbell, Jeb looked up and noticed me. "Hey," he said, "we were wondering, you know, if you all wanted to go out and get something to eat."

I went back inside to ask Amit and Nameless/Faceless Neighbor if they want to go. Jeb followed me in and went looking for a snack in the kitchen. The conversation went like this:

Me: Jeb Bush wants to know if you all want to go get something to eat.

Amit: The governor? Where is he?

Me: He's here. He lives in our building apparently.

Neighbor: You mean those Confederate Bushes? Where are they?

Me: Hey, be nice, Jeb's in the kitchen right now!

And that was the end of that dream. Presumably George W. and the other brother (Marvin or Neil) were still playing with the dog by the elevators.

This dream was followed by a shorter, less coherent dream that involved winning a 100-disc CD changer as part of a SPJ contest. The song Desperado was involved somehow. That's the last time I eat Almond Joy Bites right before going to bed.