i dreamed about Weird Al. I worked in a hospital that was a colonial style mansion that was a commune that was an amusement park that was a concert hall. weird al asked me to get vaccination records for Woody (from Toy Story) and his other little toy buddy, Allen. so i went and got a shot in my SPINE so that i would have my own record that i could edit for Woody and Allen. but when i got home i was going through folders and folders and folders because i felt for sure that i had already made them for Woody and Allen months ago. i couldn’t find them anywhere. my house was the old Vincent Price house in Waukegan that Brendon lived in. Brett was there. didn’t i just want to fuck instead? well… yes. but it’s Weird Al! and i only have until 10:30 to get back to the park to give it to him. Brett pointed out that it was 10:35 already and picked me up so i could feel his erection. as he’s carrying me to the bedroom, the doorbell rings. and rings and rings and rings…. i answer it. it’s weird al, but with short straight hair so people don’t recognize him. he’s wearing all black. do i have the records? i admit i don’t. i don’t have a scanner or shop at my place. but i can do it at the hospital if he can wait a day, i’ll mail them to him. let’s go then, he says. to the hosptial right now to do this thing. okaaaaaay. in the car he asks about jan but he’s pulling out an old newspaper clipping about patrick, the peace violin dude from psg. we go by a train yard and finally get to the hosptial. it’s a long series of elevators disguised as stairwells and doorways. you have to know the right combination to get where you want to go. i keep panicking because it’s full of tourists even this late at night and i want to make sure hannah is at my heels so i don’t lose her.