I dreamt I met a jocky, pretty, blond-haired girl named Mitzy Brooks. She wanted to go on a date with me, and I with her, so I got out my datebook. I saw all kinds of work commitments listed, and thought about how depressed I was. I made a plan to meet her, but I knew I'd cancel at the last minute, even though I thought she was pretty and nice and she had gone to Oberlin. She wrote "Liz Spikol" with a flourish in her datebook, and I was frightened: How did she know my last name? Would my reputation suffer because I was going on a date with a girl? Would Mitzy tell all of her Obie friends about it?

Later, I saw my friend Jennifer's mother, and she told me she was married to Ray Manzarek (pictured, with his real wife), of the Doors. "You can't imagine how annoying it is," she said, "to always have to find an excuse so I don't have to go to concerts"--as though the Doors were playing out all the time. I notice she looked a little tough and cool in her leather pants and spiky hair, and I thought, "That's what happens when you marry a rock star. You get cool."

Later still, a building started to fall from the sky on top of people--another 9/11 dream, which I have every couple of months. We had to escape, and we decided to leave the country. Oaths were hurled at George Bush for putting us in danger and making the rest of the world hate us (the realistic part of the dream).

And later again, I sat on the ground a block away from where a shooting had occured, while a hip-hop group led by Kanye West rapped about the epidemic of homicide in the black community. I wanted to know all the words to it, but I only knew the chorus, which is kind of what happens when I listen to real Kanye West songs.