We're sitting at a big dinner table in a high class restaurant. There are probably about 10 of us. We're celebrating something. Everyone at the table is drinking with the meal. Well, all but one person. Of course it's fine if someone chooses not to drink, but I found it odd that this particular person chose that.

After the dinner, KC and I walked up the street together to our next destination. He explained to me why that one person passed on drinking. "Oh, he raped someone, so" "HE RAPED SOMEONE?" "Yeah, it was a mistake. So, he's taking a huge break from drinking. No one can figure out why he raped her. It's so not like him. It scared him sober."

We get to our destination. A giant party in what seems to be a warehouse. I mean giant. But, it's not just a party. There is to be some sort of performance. I wind up in a room somewhere surrounded by Japanese girls. They're all giggling and loving me. They dress me up, but can't agree on the wig for me. They must've gone through 20 wigs. Then I realize they want me to be part of the show.

I was walking down Cornwallis Street, heading to the jamspot. On the corner, I see a pretty girl, with luggage. She waves. It's Claudette. I'm happy to see her.

I've spent a few nights dreaming about every single person I know. Even people I haven't seen in years. I can't remember any details. I think my subconscious was evaluating my relationships. I feel a lot better now. It's like I've managed to classify people into groups. Some people are important to me as friends or family members, and I miss them. Some people are important to me as friends I would like to have. Meaning, we're friends, but not really. I've always had trouble developing relationships unless they are "love" relationships. I've also finally clued in that not everybody I know is a friend. They may be good people, they may be friends of friends, I might even like them, but really they're just acquaintances to me. It's good to realize that, because I've been getting to worked up worrying about everything and everyone, when really, none of it matters.

It's our wedding day, but we still have no plans. I'm in a room getting dressed. Emily is helping me. But, the room is like a basement. It's like the jamspot, but bigger than it even originally was. A huge warehouse with rooms and tons of people. Maybe it was the Loudhouse, but it was still geographically different inside. I have a white, elaborate dress on, with my striped socks I got in Montreal. I start to panic, and rush out of the room. I find my groom and yell at him. "I'm all ready! How are we supposed to get married when no one even knows it's happening? I can't believe we don't have any plans!"

I ran away.

We're on tour. "We" seems to be the Hold, but the members aren't right. Actually, it seems more like we're travelling, but not necessarily a band. It's almost like we're running from something. We are spending a day or two in this basement. The house is layed out exactly as my grandparents' house in Dundas. Perhaps that's where we are, perhaps it just looks like that house.

I have a separate "room" that is really just a bed with curtains around it. KC's laying on the floor, near, but on the other side of those curtains. Everyone else (two guys and a girl) have blankets, pillows, cushions and couches to sleep on.

We're ready for sleep, but watching TV. We're watching footage of the Hold. It's like we're seeing the show for the first time. Well, technically those of us in the band are seeing it for the first time, but we don't even remember this show. Something injures me, and I have blood pouring from my forehead down my face, but I finish the song like a trooper. Somehow, what we are watching is controlled from the upstairs living room. I sneak upstairs to see if I can rewind the tape. I open the door from the basement a tiny crack and peek through. Instead of seeing my grandmother or grandfather, asleep in a chair, I see KC's mother, on the edge of her seat, watching every detail. I decide against disturbing her, and creep back downstairs.

Everyone's asleep now, so I think. I crawl in under my covers and try to relax. One of the guys, not KC, crawls in with me. The sex is amazing. "Amazing," that's lame, but I don't know how to describe it. It must've been the best I ever had. The danger of possibly being discovered made it all the more hotter. Shushing each other. Trying not to make a single sound. He went back to his place on the couch, and I drifted into the most replenishing sleep I'd had since we got on the road.

The next day, we were on a bus. I looked just like a school bus, except it was painted black and had a back (side) door like the Metro Transit buses. Whatever we were running from was catching up. It was one of those days where everything was going wrong (except for my infidelity being found out). Not just minor things, either. We got off the bus a stop early, and found that the store we were heading to was being robbed. We ran up the street and got the bus to pick us back up. Strange things were happening. People everywhere seemed to be losing control of themselves and doing things very out of character. Once we got on the bus, the driver got a crazed look in his eyes and he stomped on the gas pedal. We're going up onto an overpass and there is a left turn up ahead. The bus keeps going faster and faster and plows right through the guard rail.

We're on stage, and ready to go. Dog Day. I'm fidgeting, as I tend to behind that synth. I look up and see about five people (other than staff), in this relatively huge bar. Before we start to play, I grab the mic from Seth.

"I'm so fucking sick of this bullshit! I can't believe this shit still goes on. I mean, I'm sorry, thank you guys for coming. But what the Hell is everyone else's problem? You can't catch gay. Why can't everyone just accept each other? FUCK!"

That's not a direct quote, but it's pretty much what I said.