And Then a Skeleton Popped Out

          Got up late, off to Pep Rageous Band at 4. We played on the second balcony inside Curry for a cheering crowd of maybe 1 person. The band returned gloriously for the 8:00 hockey game versus UVM, which ended triumphantly, 4-1. We celebrated by watching "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure" like responsible young people.
          And now for a dream sequence from the night before, starring the 929 Boyz.
           Here I am in an outside lecture hall. Think of a Greek theater, except instead of tiered seating it's those uncomfortable wooden flip-down chairs in Richards. Some friends from Saugerties are sitting out in the back corner, but I just pop a squat next to Sean and Alaric. I ignore the lecturer and amuse myself with a microwave that's sitting next to the row.
           The next thing I know I'm in my room, waking up from a nap in the early evening. Alaric has entered the room and unbolted the door, closing it. "It's the end of the world out there." "What?" I ask groggily, and look out the window. People are running around chaotically outside the police station. "They're killing each other," Alaric mouths. I ask where Sean is. Alaric's answer is a bit of a non-answer but I know that he must be gone. I think back to a survival kit I'd put together for some reason in another dream. "We need to get downstairs and get the gun," I say. Alaric disagrees. "We need to get to Black Rock," he declares, handing me a sheet of copied directions. They're directions to a hidden location called Black Rock written by an 18th-century mercenary and woodsman named Matthew Matthewson. "Al," I mutter, "this is in Louisiana." I have doubts as to whether the directions would even be effective at this point. "We need to get to Black Rock," he repeats. I decide to check the hall before we make a move. I crack the door and peer around it. Scott and Harrison are beating the crap out of each other, but Scott turns to stare at me. Dammit, I think. The door is closing but I won't be able to get it shut before Scott gets to it. Reaching the door, he heroically pulls it the rest of the way closed. There's a bang, and my view through the little window is obstructed by an enraged Harrison beating on the door. I turn around, relieved, and wake up to thoughts of what juice we should pack.