...to dream I'm sort of back in the house I owned, most unhappily, in 1987 trying to get my new laptop to work and suddenly it's 4:25 oh lord is that the time? Cathy O'Neill's birthday party will be almost over!' (friend from grade school through first year university). My mother tells me to get my clothes on- 'but I forgot to buy a present!' so she hands me a stack of hand towels she bought, no time to wrap them, and my hair looks like Nancy's of Sluggo and Nancy but I can't brush it out now, and I get my purse (I don't use purses and never did: it was shoulder bags before backpacks) and Mom drives me to Cathy's as people are leaving. I know that second waking dreams are always anxiety ones, but I still prefer that to being awake for an extra three hours.
Earlier night dream was a variant on the old murder topos, where I'd stabbed but not killed my workplace nemesis and was lying low but I had to go out and walk along a street where she might see me and did, so I took shelter with a Chinese family in some ur-Torontonian-Chinatown.