July 10th, 2004


Micheal Jackson came to stay...

When I am not around people, I think my brain does not get stimulated enough because I always start getting really funky dreams.

Last night I dreamt that I was in Laguna Hills with my grandfather, who it turns out is a CLOSE PERSONAL FRIEND of MICHEAL JACKSON. Micheal Jackson (who apparently no longer lives in Neverland but in a small dingy apartment) invites us all over to dinner. We're wandering around admiring the various points of interest in his house ("And this is the jacket I wore in the Thriller video, isn't it lovely?" "I bought twenty of these vases once when I was on TV but I've had to sell seventeen of them.") when suddenly there's a rock in my mouth, so I spit and there's a bloody molar sitting in the palm of my hand. Then another. And another. My teeth are just falling out, sporadically letting go of my gums and dripping bloody trails as I remove them one by one until my hands are full and there isn't a pearly white left in my mouth. There's a mirror in the hall and I look in it and what do you know, my eyebrows have fallen off except for a few pathetic stray hairs. I become increasingly paranoid and freak out because obviously I've been suddenly hit by some sort of disease, probably a form of cancer. My family is trying to reassure me that nothing's the matter ("Don't worry, children lose their teeth all the time!" "But I'm TWENTY!" "Ah, but you're still young) and Mr. Jackson is feeling simply dreadful that this is happening while he's hosting us, so he volunteers to take me to the emergency room. So I'm on a motorcycle IN VERY CLOSE CONTACT WITH MICHEAL JACKSON, WHICH IS NOT A HAPPY PLACE...so I woke up. The very first thing I did was check my mouth to ensure that there were still teeth inside it, and that they were attached to the proper places.
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