Notes for this entry were lost.
I dreamed that I was sheltering from a hurricane in some kind of inn, run by a grizzled old bartender. The building was a sort of A-frame lodge with tall columns and a tremendous wall of glass on one end, with a deck hanging out over the water beyond. Rain and leaves lashed against the glass, and the building itself shuddered from the wind, but the bartender unconcernedly continued to wipe glasses with a rag. For some unknown reason I decided to leave with Brian F, Alexis, and Nathaniel, and we took off into the storm in a bright red car. We drove past a huge, fallen tree and had gone a few hundred feet when something clicked. I asked Brian to stop the car, jumped out and ran toward the tree. A young girl was crushed beneath it, still alive but barely breathing. The car and my companions were gone, and I managed to move the tree on my own. I picked up the girl and ran for help, both of us soaked to the bone. Softly, she began to sing a lullaby. I woke up wondering what was going to happen to us.
Quote of the day:
"Were you born to pay taxes?" - Prof. Jimenez
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