<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101</id><updated>2012-02-16T20:28:50.402-08:00</updated><category term='childhood'/><category term='Alyssa'/><category term='dad'/><category term='sad'/><category term='Mirecourt'/><category term='news'/><category term='dorm'/><category term='basketball'/><category term='Natalie'/><category term='hotel'/><category term='fainting'/><category term='dream within a dream'/><category term='nightmare'/><category term='wedding'/><category term='death'/><category term='zombies'/><category term='Will B.'/><category term='boys'/><category term='shower'/><category term='Costa Rica'/><category term='white'/><category term='phone'/><category term='train'/><category term='gorillas'/><category term='aunt'/><category term='coma'/><category term='travel'/><category term='haunted'/><category term='chocolate'/><category term='sorority'/><category term='window'/><category term='storm'/><category term='family'/><category term='cousins'/><category term='desert'/><category term='anger'/><category term='Mary-Kate Olsen'/><category term='naked'/><category term='dance'/><category term='Michael'/><category term='dinosaur'/><category term='future'/><category term='rollerblades'/><category term='doctor'/><category term='donut'/><category term='Kennedy'/><category term='TV'/><category term='ice cream'/><category term='blue'/><category term='seafood'/><category term='lightning'/><category term='dress'/><category term='Marco'/><category term='save'/><category term='gun shot'/><category term='college'/><category term='dream'/><category term='fall'/><category term='school'/><category term='accident'/><category term='river'/><category term='game'/><category term='Derek'/><category term='jewelry'/><category term='rain'/><category term='alcohol'/><category term='classroom'/><category term='LDOC'/><category term='monkey'/><category term='cold'/><category term='fire'/><category term='church'/><category term='baby'/><category term='grandmother'/><category term='Japan'/><category term='suicide'/><category term='Central Campus'/><category term='husband'/><category term='glass'/><category term='sick'/><category term='David S.'/><category term='flowers'/><category term='bathroom'/><category term='violin'/><category term='Mom'/><category term='professor'/><category term='hospital'/><category term='pig'/><category term='cooking'/><category term='ocean'/><category term='Peru'/><category term='teeth'/><category term='red'/><category term='boyfriend'/><category term='Ashley Olsen'/><category term='surgeon'/><category term='beach'/><category term='crying'/><category term='night'/><category term='mirror'/><category term='acne'/><category term='gelato'/><category term='gold'/><category term='blood'/><category term='whales'/><category term='Kegan'/><category term='internship'/><category term='toolbox'/><category term='frat'/><category term='airport'/><category term='green'/><category term='lover'/><category term='sex'/><category term='water'/><category term='zebra'/><category term='virginity'/><category term='toy'/><category term='trees'/><category term='Mrs. Ingle'/><category term='grave'/><category term='clothes'/><category term='forest'/><category term='computer'/><category term='high school'/><category term='Matt J.'/><category term='Howard Hughes'/><category term='salt'/><category term='physics'/><category term='cake'/><category term='driving'/><category term='pills'/><category term='science'/><category term='car'/><category term='friends'/><category term='bedroom'/><category term='massage'/><category term='tent'/><category term='finger'/><category term='children'/><category term='research'/><category term='Morgan'/><category term='gym'/><category term='cupcakes'/><category term='Duke'/><category term='party'/><category term='earring'/><category term='drunk'/><category term='music'/><category term='balloon'/><category term='book'/><category term='purple'/><category term='medical school'/><category term='falling'/><category term='recipe'/><category term='running'/><category term='Uganda'/><category term='ex boyfriend'/><category term='flood'/><category term='food'/><category term='outdoors'/><category term='jello shots'/><category term='virus'/><category term='mall'/><category term='house'/><category term='married'/><category term='woods'/><category term='men'/><category term='snow'/><category term='medicine'/><category term='money'/><title type='text'>I'm Only Sleeping</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-3592383955725389047</id><published>2011-11-06T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-06T16:42:22.159-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='night'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='church'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><title type='text'>Disappearing</title><content type='html'>I dreamt that I took a solo trip around the world, without letting anyone know, disappearing in the night with nothing but a backpack and a blanket. I ended up on a sketchy street somewhere in Mexico and had to find refuge for the night. It was getting cold, and I came across a church. I walked in and it was dark, except for the altar. Some moving figures were in the corner - also backpackers, then others were homeless. Without saying much, I walked my way into an adjacent building. Some sort of community kitchen. I helped myself to some bread and water, and looked for a spot in the church to spend the night. I remember reflecting on the fact that there was just bread and water, like a prison. Yet it was my refuge../&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-3592383955725389047?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3592383955725389047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=3592383955725389047' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3592383955725389047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3592383955725389047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2011/11/disappearing.html' title='Disappearing'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-1360601116873943670</id><published>2011-06-25T08:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T08:32:57.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Screaming in my sleep</title><content type='html'>I had a nightmare, which I then woke up from (in my dream) only to find myself in the same nightmare - which made me believe it was all real. In the first nightmare, I was in bed and I felt by body levitating. I couldn't understand why and for a few seconds I let it because I liked it. Then I got a little scared, when suddenly I started to hear odd noises, like muffled angry yelling. As the seconds went by, it got louder and louder, and I could feel an energy moving over me and the sounds were coming from below me. I became very afraid and wanted to wake up but I could not. I tried to wake up by screaming my roommate's name but all I could do was breathe out her name weakly, I couldn't scream. Almost like there wasn't any air in me. I became increasingly frightened and started to breathe heavily and she couldn't hear a thing. I heard her stir in her sleep. I finally was too overwhelmed by the noise, when suddenly I woke up. But I had woken up in another nightmare, where I couldn't move, I was paralyzed in the same bed. Eventually I woke up by screaming in my head "wake up wake up"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-1360601116873943670?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1360601116873943670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=1360601116873943670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1360601116873943670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1360601116873943670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2011/06/screaming-in-my-sleep.html' title='Screaming in my sleep'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-8686762674669710411</id><published>2010-08-30T13:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-30T13:46:19.937-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lightning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex boyfriend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Peru'/><title type='text'>A few</title><content type='html'>- I was looking for a friend in a mansion. Another friend misled me and I eventually wasn't able to find him, while my friend knew exactly where he was and went and hung out with him. I think we were at some house party that got out of control and then we had to leave. I think drinking was involved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I was with a good friend on some sort of road trip. His mother was driving, and we were in the first row behind the driver's seat - in a van, so there were two seats with a space in the middle. I remember we were playing and talking about our new BOSE noise cancelling headphones. We also made a stop at a tomb-like museum in the middle of a park somewhere on this roadtrip. My friend had drawn on his face with pen around his eyes and cheeks in a linear pattern of some sort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- I brought a person I recently met to visit my family. I think he helped my mom find seafood because we were trying to make some Peruvian seafood dish. He also took me to a fraternity "ring ceremony" thing and he didn't get a ring but was essentially on some sort of waiting list where he would get into the frat if some of the people they had invited preferred other offers they had received. The best part of this dream was that there was a path around this frat ceremony location. On the path, there were these lights that looked like spherical orbs of light on the ground. They rocked&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-8686762674669710411?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8686762674669710411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=8686762674669710411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8686762674669710411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8686762674669710411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/08/few.html' title='A few'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-5587769020974107052</id><published>2010-08-19T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-19T07:57:52.728-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Morgan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='running'/><title type='text'>a foot race</title><content type='html'>Don't remember the exact context or reason, but I raced a friend of mine in a basketball gym, from one sideline to another, and beat him (this would not happen in real life). He smiled and was very impressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-5587769020974107052?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5587769020974107052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=5587769020974107052' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5587769020974107052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5587769020974107052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/08/foot-race.html' title='a foot race'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-2151103575062643565</id><published>2010-08-12T06:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T06:49:33.683-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Costa Rica'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beach'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uganda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='whales'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monkey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex boyfriend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gorillas'/><title type='text'>When gorillas attack</title><content type='html'>A group of friends from the study abroad program in Costa Rica and I were taking a guided nature walk, and we came upon a section of field/forest where many other tour groups were tracking gorillas. This was apparently not very difficult, as many groups were surrounded by gorillas and being way less than careful with them. Some were feeding them, others were teasing them, and it generally felt unsafe. There weren't any regulations and essentially the tourists were doing as they pleased. (note: these animals were gorillas, but they were about the size of a chimp)&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Before we had begun the tour, our guide had offered us to scent ourselves with a pheromone mixture that would attract and make the gorillas more likely to come up to us, and most of us had refused this opportunity because it sounded pretty dangerous. Except for one friend, my current apartment mate, who dipped her hand in it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While we continued to walk, this particular friend got ahead of the group and was walking about 10 feet ahead of everyone else. All of a sudden, a gorilla came charging at her and rammed her to the ground. Another gorilla followed and attacked her from another side. Everyone around us stopped what they were doing, including me, and stood in shock wondering how to respond to the attack. The guide, so called expert, was refusing to do anything saying that if more people got involved more people would get hurt but I immediately dismissed that approach. Watching my friend go through this was incredibly scary and I couldn't just stand there and watch her get hurt. So I jumped and fell by her side, saying "Don't die! Please don't die!" and holding her head. I noticed she had been bitten on her left wrist and bright red blood was coming out. In the middle of this, one of the gorillas who had first attacked was making his way over to charge at me, when out of nowhere an old friend of mine grabbed him and stopped the impact. The gorilla went away and I looked up at him and had one of those "wow, my hero!" moments. Unfortunately, this is an old friend who I despise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;At some other points in the dream, I remember three things: one, a lot of my friends were TV show stars and my mom was asking me how come I wasn't one yet and she encouraged me to find out if I could become one; two, a group of friends from Duke Engage and I went shopping with my mom but one couldn't afford anything more than $10, so we were looking at $7jeans; and three, with the Costa Rica group we were taking a vacation, our families came along and I remember my family stayed in this large&amp;nbsp;Caribbean&amp;nbsp;plantation-style home that was very very nice except for a leaky roof which messed us up when it rained, and anyway this group of friends and I took a jeep out to find a remote beach. We found one with some whales in it that had dolphin-like fins, and one of the girls in the group (who looked like two people I know) decided to jump in and she turned into a dolphin and swam with the whales.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-2151103575062643565?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2151103575062643565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=2151103575062643565' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2151103575062643565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2151103575062643565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/08/when-gorillas-attack.html' title='When gorillas attack'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-5732173160683674303</id><published>2010-08-07T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T09:24:04.314-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucidity and nakedness</title><content type='html'>1) ACHIEVED LUCIDITY: I'm on an island, it's very sunny. I'm not sure what's going on until I have a moment where I know I'm dreaming. And you bet, I try so hard to make sure that I don't wake up and I don't. What's next? I have to test my boundaries. So, I try to change the scenery, but that fails. Then, I see a road ahead of me and there's a bridge. There is a couple on this bridge and I think what's one of the craziest things I can do? So, I decide to try to seduce this couple into having a threesome. I kiss the guy but as I pull away I realize he's actually really gross. His teeth are missing, he is very ugly, and kind of dirty. Moving along, I drop that idea and run into my mom's friend's daughter. She seems distraught and I'm not sure where she's going but I decide that I need to find a castle. I imagine that if such a castle exists, it's got to be on a road called "Royal Drive" so I ask her if she knows where it is but she has no idea. All of a sudden an Asian girl in a beetle drives up and I direct her to stop. She does, and I ask her if she knows how to get to Royal Drive, and she offers me a ride. While I am in her car she tells me she sells weed but is having some trouble keeping up with the demands of her customers because she keeps getting requests for things like weed tea which she's never made and is very confused about, and then I don't remember my dream after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I'm not sure what the story is behind this dream but I remember at one point I was going to seduce an older man. But, before I did that, I wanted to check myself out in the mirror to make sure I looked good. I was wearing an ultra-soft, magenta robe and it had some floral decorations on it. It was sort of Japanese style floral decorations on it. Then, I stood in front of a mirror and took off the robe to look at my naked body. I apparently looked different than what I actually look like, because my breasts were much larger and oddly cartoonish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-5732173160683674303?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5732173160683674303/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=5732173160683674303' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5732173160683674303'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5732173160683674303'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/08/lucidity-and-nakedness.html' title='Lucidity and nakedness'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-2761000581452238861</id><published>2010-07-29T14:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T14:10:49.715-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='donut'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boys'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='men'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Met you on the quad</title><content type='html'>My friend and I were playing around and he gave me a key to a room at Duke, and I don't remember why, but I ended up spending the night there. I woke up, and the people who lived in the room came in. They were surprised to find me there but they didn't mind. Then, either they were helping me move my stuff or I was helping them; either way, we started to move some objects out of the room. I couldn't carry all the stuff I was trying to move, and it was frankly sort of embarassing. Dropping stuff everywhere. I remember distinctly having a lot of trouble with two orange tubes of lip balm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one of these back and forth trips we walk past a group of guys - kind of fratty, not my type, no one I actually know in real life&amp;nbsp;- who are talking about a pickup trick: accidentally touch a girl somewhere (shoulder, knee) and apologize, see how she reacts. Anyway, so this one guy tries to pull this on me, and I tell him: oh hey, can you get off, you're &lt;em&gt;accidentally&lt;/em&gt; touching me and it's kind of annoying. He laughs, I've bruised his ego a little, but nothing he can't recover from. I'm not sure what he says next, but he gets me to laugh. And after that, we flirt a little, poke fun at each other, and next thing I know he's put his arm around me and he's asking for my name, which I tell him, and he tells me his (no recollection of what it was). So we're taking this stroll along some path on the quad, and then we pause to cross some street. He pulls out a cell phone and he's texted someone about me, and she's calling him. I can hear her say something like "well is she cute or something" and then he replies and hangs up. I ask him if that was a friend or something and he gets this sheepish look on his face. He then proceeds to tell me that him and his ex-girlfriend are still sort of seeing each other, and that he apologizes but isn't in a position where he can really pursue our connection any further. He says he can't even give me his number. Disappointed, but not terribly, I tell him no worries, I get it, I've been there. Why do we get so hung up on these quasi commitments? So I brush it off and tell him to say hi next time we see each other, no hard feelings, and I walk away, feeling pretty hot and confident about the whole event in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next event I remember is that I accidentally end up at some reunion event that a girl I know from school is putting together. Problem is, I'm not part of the reunion. Trapped, however, I find out they are short-staffed so I find a spot behind a table where we're distributing donuts and pastries to guests. At one point, I'm putting a donut on a paper plate and a man who's reaching for one has long blonde hairs shedding from his sweatshirt. I begin to point this out to him. He gets offended, and grabs the donut right from under me, gripping it with excessive force and essentially squashing it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-2761000581452238861?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2761000581452238861/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=2761000581452238861' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2761000581452238861'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2761000581452238861'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/met-you-on-quad.html' title='Met you on the quad'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-263824328909733713</id><published>2010-07-27T05:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T05:05:05.305-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Remembered the other day I dreamt my hair was gradually falling out. Had a bald spot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-263824328909733713?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/263824328909733713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=263824328909733713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/263824328909733713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/263824328909733713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/remembered-other-day-i-dreamt-my-hair.html' title=''/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-1982029061597802411</id><published>2010-07-27T03:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-27T03:52:07.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the future?</title><content type='html'>I don't remember a lot about the dream other than I lived on my own and I had my own place. Then I was planning to have people over in my apartment and I may have posted an ad for friends in the newspaper, or maybe online. Lol&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-1982029061597802411?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1982029061597802411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=1982029061597802411' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1982029061597802411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1982029061597802411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/future.html' title='the future?'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-4231658504465302948</id><published>2010-07-21T18:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-21T18:10:26.312-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alien theater</title><content type='html'>My friend Brendan was directing a play he'd written about an alien invasion, and I was part of the cast. It was a short, funny, audience-gets-involved kind of play, and I played an alien queen who was part of a group of people who surprised the audience by coming out of nowhere and shooting at them with fake lasers. People enjoyed it. I remember at some point, my one line was to say "Oh no, I think we're out of ammo," at which point some selected members of the audience were equipped with fake weapons and shot at us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-4231658504465302948?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4231658504465302948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=4231658504465302948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4231658504465302948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4231658504465302948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/alien-theater.html' title='Alien theater'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-8166221309614907813</id><published>2010-07-19T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T10:53:28.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sitting in a cafe</title><content type='html'>It was a combined setting of Duke and high school, I went from hanging out with some people, getting ready to see a Duke basketball game, to ending up going to a football stadium to see some other game. Taylor King was in the audience, standing by himself. As I was getting ready, I couldn't find a Duke shirt first, and then I accidentally grabbed red instead of Duke blue shorts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards, I found myself heading to a cafe by myself, talking on my cell phone. I was randomly talking to an old high school teacher, one of my favorites, about life in general. I went into the cafe and ordered a variety of small cookies and a coffee, and sat by myself. Somehow, being on the phone wasn't rude in this place. Next to me, there was a lady, her mother, and possibly an aunt, waiting for another guest. They were eating breakfast food, one lady had two eggs and black beans. We made eye contact a few times, they smiled. Then the 4th guest showed up - the youngest's fiance, and he had brought everyone jewelry. He pulls a little jewelry bag out of nowhere and just turns it over on the table, letting it fall out, with this grin on his face. He gave his fiance a necklace I saw in Austin, the aunt some sun medallion, and the future mother in law, some other thing I can't remember. I remember the women looked at me funny, possibly embarassed by the way he just pulled the jewelry out like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My teacher asked me about my boyfriend, and I acted like my reception was bad because I didn't want to discuss the long story and details. The waiter tried to take my food away before I was done, and I had to tell him twice that I still wanted to eat the chocolate cookie still on my napkin.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-8166221309614907813?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8166221309614907813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=8166221309614907813' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8166221309614907813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8166221309614907813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/sitting-in-cafe.html' title='Sitting in a cafe'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-9024279078688463518</id><published>2010-07-19T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T10:29:55.380-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pig'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='phone'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex boyfriend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boyfriend'/><title type='text'>State fair</title><content type='html'>In this odd dream, I am flipping between present and past (both imagined). I remember going to the state fair with my boyfriend and taking home a piglet. It was adorable at first, and clung to me like a puppy. Not long after, however, it becomes a nuisance in my home. It is super annoying and won't stop annoying me. It's obsessed with me and won't even let me go down the stairs without giving it attention. So I try to lock it in a contraption under the breakfast table, but it fails. Then on another occassion I go back to the state fair, and consider returning it. While I'm there, once more with my boyfriend, a little girl runs up to him and offers to trade him a t-shirt for his hat, which is a cap from my father's company. She is thrilled, and tells us her town doesn't have any big company plants in it, so she will be really cool now that she has a hat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also run into an old friend from high school, who I never really liked and haven't heard from in ages. She is working as a waitress for a restaurant portion of the fair. Each time we pass her, she tries to ignores us, or gives us an insincere smile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While at the fair, I am texting an old friend. He's at the fair while we are, but never in the same place, so I don't see him. He texts me about what he's seeing at the fair, stuff he is finding and buying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, the only reason the pig couldn't follow me to the fair on this trip is because we rode a carriage there and carriages scare the pigs because they are hazardous to them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-9024279078688463518?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/9024279078688463518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=9024279078688463518' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/9024279078688463518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/9024279078688463518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/state-fair.html' title='State fair'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-8572641876860387735</id><published>2010-07-16T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-19T10:35:37.049-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='outdoors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>confusing reality</title><content type='html'>Set my alarm for 8 am.Woke up at 7:15, went back to sleep. In my sleep, shut off the 8 am alarm and unfortunately remained asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dreamt that I woke up and my friend picked me up from my house to go on the trip (which is exactly what was supposed to happen in real life, but I was actually dreaming...but believing it was reality). We even got to our destination and he was helping me take stuff out of his car. How crazy is that??&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-8572641876860387735?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8572641876860387735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=8572641876860387735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8572641876860387735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8572641876860387735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/confusing-reality.html' title='confusing reality'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-4765701069874010649</id><published>2010-07-09T12:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T12:07:42.466-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreaming of greater dreams</title><content type='html'>working on my lucid dreaming skills with LaBerge's methods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Managed to have ~ 5 short dreams last night. I remembered them upon waking, but I was too lazy to write them down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I only remember one where I went to the store and bought custom-packaged steaks. Friendly butcher.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-4765701069874010649?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4765701069874010649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=4765701069874010649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4765701069874010649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4765701069874010649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/07/dreaming-of-greater-dreams.html' title='Dreaming of greater dreams'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-2217315984379232183</id><published>2010-06-27T16:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T16:45:04.108-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nightmare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dinosaur'/><title type='text'>Jurassic Park</title><content type='html'>No kidding, last night I dreamt that I was in a Jurassic Park 2-like situation...there was an enormous dinosaur or two going around the country killing people, and it was unstoppable. I don't remember how or if the army had tried to stop it, but clearly it was not an easy task.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember that because the monster's path was so unpredictable, there wasn't any point in evacuating because you had the same chance of getting eaten...so people went about their normal lives but in constant fear, planning where they would run and hide if they encountered the dinosaur or if it suddenly broke through the building or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem was, the dinosaur could smell you...so it wasn't enough to just be out of it's sight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember I was outdoors when the dinosaur came running through and attacking people...I climbed into a tree, but the dinosaur smelled me. Before it could attack me, however, I think I got shot or something else happened. It's all still blurry to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-2217315984379232183?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2217315984379232183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=2217315984379232183' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2217315984379232183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2217315984379232183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/06/jurassic-park.html' title='Jurassic Park'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-8005203892537915312</id><published>2010-06-26T09:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-26T09:21:25.203-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>All I can remember is that my mother was in this dream and she was disappointed about something I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-8005203892537915312?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8005203892537915312/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=8005203892537915312' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8005203892537915312'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8005203892537915312'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/06/all-i-can-remember-is-that-my-mother.html' title=''/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-4247861698165457847</id><published>2010-06-22T20:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T20:56:08.416-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Daydreams</title><content type='html'>This is where I'm going to keep my writing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://catherinejotsdown.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://catherinejotsdown.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-4247861698165457847?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4247861698165457847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=4247861698165457847' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4247861698165457847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4247861698165457847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/06/daydreams.html' title='Daydreams'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-463811145078234388</id><published>2010-06-20T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T10:54:46.795-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='LDOC'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ice cream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alcohol'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Morgan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rollerblades'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boyfriend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Just remembered a dream from a while ago</title><content type='html'>It was LDOC, and we were doing what kids do on LDOC. Walking around in sundresses on lawns, SOLO cups in hand. In this version of Duke University, we had a Baskin Robbins where they featured a new flavor every week or month, and on LDOC, two of my friend's had submitted a flavor and had won. In fact, their flavor was so fresh and new that it was put at the top of the list and released without spending any time on the wait list.&lt;br /&gt;So, on this LDOC, my boyfriend decided he was having the munchies and really really needed to go get some ice cream. I had already gone to get some myself and so I did not go with him. I remember being irritated for being left alone so I stormed off through the Keohane lawn and as I did that, I ran into a girl I know who has rollerblading, and I fell backwards. Somehow, my head hit one of her rollerblades, and within my dream, I passed out.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up, within my dream, and found myself in my bed in my dorm room. The girl I'd hit was there and she told me I'd hit my head on her roller blade and I'd passed out. I asked her why no one had called the EMT and she said they didn't want to overreact. Furious, I asked where my boyfriend was. She told me he felt like getting more ice cream and so he'd be back later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-463811145078234388?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/463811145078234388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=463811145078234388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/463811145078234388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/463811145078234388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/06/just-remembered-dream-from-while-ago.html' title='Just remembered a dream from a while ago'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-1068902236562557857</id><published>2010-06-19T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T13:31:37.831-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='haunted'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tent'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='forest'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><title type='text'>Haunted Grounds</title><content type='html'>Last night, four of my friends and I decided to go camping at the &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devil's_Tramping_Ground"&gt;Devil's Tramping Grounds&lt;/a&gt; in Siler City, NC (Chatham County).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story goes something like this...there's a barren circle in the woods with "no scientific explanation" as to why nothing grows on it. There's a fire pit in the middle where people like to build fires, and the folklore explains the blank circle by claiming that the devil and evil spirits walk around in circles on that spot plotting evil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, naturally, we were not spooked at all until we had a few spooky experiences. First of all, a local man and his son randomly pulled up and came to talk to us, at first refusing to tell us the "real story" about the site (it used to be a tribal ceremonial site) and then telling us to watch out for copperheads...and any tricks that the place might play on us. Later, some people pulled up nearby who sounded like they were drinking, and then later we heard some voices in the forest. Regardless, we weren't freaked out enough to leave, but we stayed and split into two separate tents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't deny that I was spooked anyway, since after all, I am open to the possibility of paranormal and/or spiritual happenings. So I had a freaky dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was one of those dreams where you feel like it's real, because you "wake up" in your dream to find yourself in the exact same place where you are sleeping and it feels like you've actually woken up. But when I "woke up", I felt like I had sleep paralysis, and couldn't move. My eyes were open, however, and I was staring at the sky and the stars, which we could see from our tent because we had screens at the top.Then I began to hear sounds, as if there were a lot of what sounded like teenagers walking and rustling about in the forest. Then I heard whispers, like they were talking about their plan of action. All of a sudden, the most vivid part of my dream occurred. I heard them begin to circle around our tents and none of my friends were making any noise. I assumed that like me, they were trying to stay as quiet as possible, but in my case I wouldn't have even been able to make noise if I wanted to. Which was probably a good thing because the next thing I felt was the presence of a person feeling their hand around the outside of the tent, as if looking for bodies inside. I felt their fingers as they felt my back through the thin layer of tent, and at that moment I essentially "passed out" from the fear of the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing that happened is that I woke up - and this time, it was for real, and the night was still. The stars looked brighter, and I tried to calm myself to sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-1068902236562557857?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1068902236562557857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=1068902236562557857' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1068902236562557857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1068902236562557857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/06/haunted-grounds.html' title='Haunted Grounds'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-7959151810281364936</id><published>2010-06-17T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T13:33:16.573-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='aunt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='woods'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='forest'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='purple'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandmother'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='book'/><title type='text'>Walking Art</title><content type='html'>I dreamt I had gotten off some sort of Duke bus and I was walking on a trail going into a wooded path. I wore a colorful purple and aqua and black dress and matching hightops. I remember walking daintily while dramatically holding last year's Duke yearbook. I feel that I ran into my mother, aunt, and grandmother along the path and they asked me how I was doing and making me feel good about myself. I think they were liking my outfit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-7959151810281364936?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7959151810281364936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=7959151810281364936' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7959151810281364936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7959151810281364936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/06/walking-art.html' title='Walking Art'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-1433493140750191935</id><published>2010-06-16T14:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T13:32:58.095-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cupcakes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cooking'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Vegan Cupcakes</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;I dreamt that I had been relocated and for a reason unknown to me, I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;had to live with a family that had a bunch of high school kids. So I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;was being forced to attend high school classes when it dawned on me: I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;have a high school diploma, I'm probably not even eligible to take&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;these classes! So I went to the counselor and told her what I'd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;figured out and she clapped and excitedly confirmed that I in fact did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;not have to attend those classes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;Instead, I found myself at culinary school with a fellow Duke student&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;who will be working closely with me this year. She really, really&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;wanted to become an expert chef and I was just in for the fun. It&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;turns out I was on her cooking team for the final examination, and we&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;had to make vegan cupcakes and a fish dish. I was helping her out at&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;the really, really, intense final moments and she had to step out of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;the room for a few seconds, right when the fish was done cooking. In a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;moment of brilliance/carelessness/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;wbr&gt;&lt;/wbr&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;reckless impulsion, I couldn't find&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;the plate or any sign of a side dish for the fish. I had no idea where&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;to put it. So, I put it on top of one of the frosted cupcakes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;Right at that moment, the girl came back in, furious and in shock over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;what I'd done. She began to freak out and I immediately apologized,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;not having a clue what to do to fix it. I assured her I would take all&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;the blame and explain exactly what had happened to the director of the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;program. Then time was up and all we could do was wait for the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;judgment. Then the director came out and told us that while that weird&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;thing had happened with the fish, she was able to put the mistake&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;aside because it just tasted soooo good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;My friend got her degree and I completed the program without one, just&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;a certificate of achievement, and that's all I remember about the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"&gt;dream.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-1433493140750191935?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1433493140750191935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=1433493140750191935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1433493140750191935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1433493140750191935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/06/vegan-cupcakes.html' title='Vegan Cupcakes'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-5876294882841452131</id><published>2010-04-04T21:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-04T21:30:41.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A dream is a wish your heart makes</title><content type='html'>when you're fast asleep.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Or so the song says...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I haven't recorded my dreams in a while. I'm upset about it. I'm going to try to dream tonight.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-5876294882841452131?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5876294882841452131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=5876294882841452131' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5876294882841452131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5876294882841452131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2010/04/dream-is-wish-your-heart-makes.html' title='A dream is a wish your heart makes'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-5946334038694914964</id><published>2009-11-26T10:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-06-19T13:34:32.530-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alcohol'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='research'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><title type='text'>Research projects</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span class="apple-style-span"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 15pt;"&gt;Not surprisingly, because my head has been seriously focused on completing the research project and paper for the study abroad program I am currently in, I dreamt about it. In this dream, I was consulting with a friend of mine who was in this program last year and although this is not true in reality, we had done similar projects and so we were comparing our statistical analysis. Then another friend of ours, who in the dream was working as a waitress in the cafe we were seated at, brought us virgin strawberry daiquiris. It was very funny.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-5946334038694914964?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5946334038694914964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=5946334038694914964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5946334038694914964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5946334038694914964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/research-projects.html' title='Research projects'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-4512987912982077119</id><published>2009-11-22T06:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T06:47:06.759-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Morgan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='money'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='future'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chocolate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Harvard coins</title><content type='html'>It was my senior year and I applied for a few scholarships to get my masters in global health. I really wanted to do it at Duke, so I filled out an application for a scholarship there with more care than I have ever done anything else. In a last minute decision, I decided to apply to a Harvard scholarship too, for kicks. I ended up winning the Harvard one, and I received two gold coins in an envelope with a letter from them explaining how they had a tradition of granting scholarships with these coins - one was $10,000 and the other was $1,000. I don't remember why.&lt;div&gt;I then proceeded to share this wonderful news for my mom, and instead of congratulating me she didn't even look up from whatever she was doing and said "is that it? Only ten thousand? That's not going to be enough for you to study there."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Upset, I went to find my boyfriend's room. He congratulated me, but then I looked around his room and he has about 10 boxes of chocolate eclairs his parents had sent him as congratulations for getting an internship. I remember feeling very upset.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-4512987912982077119?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4512987912982077119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=4512987912982077119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4512987912982077119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4512987912982077119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/harvard-coins.html' title='Harvard coins'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-4704485067452560793</id><published>2009-11-16T14:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-16T14:51:14.171-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uganda'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='professor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='game'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='balloon'/><title type='text'>Nap that shows commitment</title><content type='html'>Just woke up from a 1.5 hour nap. Dreamt that the program group went to visit another indigenous group - we went there with the assistance of a man who worked with them, and also happened to have worked in Uganda at some point so he had a stock of Ugandan crafts. At some point I felt a deep desire to steal them.&lt;div&gt;We played a game that he taught us that only the indigenous women play - it involved a fancy contraption, stick-like with a small claw at each end, and we had to hit balloons with it, tossing them back and forth between us. I have no idea how we were supposed to win.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;One girl in the group was very happy to explain how the game worked because I had completely blanked out while they explained it and did not know how to play.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-4704485067452560793?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4704485067452560793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=4704485067452560793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4704485067452560793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4704485067452560793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/nap-that-shows-commitment.html' title='Nap that shows commitment'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-7507988737667747090</id><published>2009-11-15T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T12:57:53.860-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fire'/><title type='text'>Fire on high</title><content type='html'>I'm at Duke University, and unlike in reality, it is located in a valley between heavily wooded hills. In the distance, I see a small fire up on a hill while I am talking to a friend, and I point it out, saying - I wonder what's burning up there? That doesn't look good - but I don't make much of it. A few hours later, after having gone inside, I notice that the fire has gotten much bigger and is spreading at the top of the hill. I go to bed, worried, but hoping that it will be taken care of. I wake up early in the morning to find that there is a thick layer of fog outside - except its not fog, its smoke, and I quickly realize the fire has not been controlled and the smoke is a sign that the fire is dangerously out of control and getting close to the university. In panic, I go out into the common room of a dorm hall that does not exist in reality, and I see a few people trying to get out with a couple of bags trying to reach a bus. However, I realize the bus takes a route that goes closer to the fire than I am willing to go, and I am wondering what to do until a staff member grabs my attention and leads me to a fire retardant building in which some people are staying until the fire is put under control. This entire time I try to call my mother, but cell phone lines are jammed or I keep losing connection, and the internet keeps going on and off.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-7507988737667747090?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7507988737667747090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=7507988737667747090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7507988737667747090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7507988737667747090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/fire-on-high.html' title='Fire on high'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-8698587315655742270</id><published>2009-09-28T08:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T08:05:17.321-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='earring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='suicide'/><title type='text'>A couple</title><content type='html'>1) A friend of mine from Uganda told me that I needed to stop telling people about his new girlfriend. He was very angry at me for saying something about it, and he grabbed me by the arm and threatened me in my ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) My mother and I went to some street fair and I got my second piercing in my ear, and I spent a lot of time looking for an earring I wanted to buy in what was a very complicated bag the street vendor had. Later I found out a family member had committed suicide after watching an attempted suicide on the latest episode of House. He broke his arm next to a fireplace and let himself burn to death.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-8698587315655742270?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8698587315655742270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=8698587315655742270' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8698587315655742270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8698587315655742270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/couple.html' title='A couple'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-9189167364624186173</id><published>2009-09-21T07:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T09:14:42.534-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='basketball'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Costa Rica'/><title type='text'>High School and Costa Rica</title><content type='html'>I seem to have some unresolved feelings about high school that are apparently mixed in with my current experiences in Costa Rica. Last night I oddly dreamt of being back on my high school basketball team, and it was my senior year so we were going to take part in some sort of traditional "last dinner" that I honestly didn't want to attend because it was at my coach's house, and I really didn't like my coach or my team that much. Additionally, I was sort of upset about the way the coaches had been working our butts off even though season was over, and we were graduating soon. I remember we had a short meeting after practice to discuss the dinner and we had to commit, and I disctinctly remember thinking, well "it's a free meal, I guess." So that night I showed up to the dinner and I was seated next to Lauren, a girl who actually didn't even go to my school but that is in my study abroad program here in Costa Rica. I remember chatting with her a little bit but then getting on the subject of homework because I was not as good as she at identifying plants, so I kept asking her questions and she eventually became severely annoyed by me and told me I needed to read the book. That is about all I remember.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-9189167364624186173?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/9189167364624186173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=9189167364624186173' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/9189167364624186173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/9189167364624186173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/high-school-and-costa-rica.html' title='High School and Costa Rica'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-1320034906546397521</id><published>2009-09-15T07:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T07:56:49.388-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Under Attack</title><content type='html'>A couple of nights ago I dreamt, not surprisingly, about the group of people I spend every day of this program with. In this dream, however, we were located in Durham on Duke’s campus when we received warnings from the government that the U.S. was going to be bombed, beginning with the east coast. At this point, the program immediately made arrangements and we were evacuated to a house on a farm in California. I remember we took a bus over and there was a general sense of impending doom and the instability of the future. In the process of evacuation I forgot to call my house at home and let them know what was happening.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I called my mother from my cell phone as soon as I remembered but the lines were completely jammed, and then my phone died. When we arrived on the farm in California we were greeted by an older woman who owned the house. She was trying to put on a smile and welcome us into her home with as much hospitality as she could muster, but even she couldn’t hide the despair in her smile as we walked into her house. We spent the day eating her homemade food and she tried to keep us occupied by making crafts. At some point my friend in the program reminded me that I should probably call my mother and I did. I told her where we were, told her we were OK, and oddly enough my mom seemed incredibly despondent. All I got from her were curt answers like “yes” and “OK then” and she seemed to have completely lost any emotion as her way of coping with what was going on. I got off the phone and finally began to feel horrible, even though up until that point I had been trying to laugh things off and be the joker in the group. It was interesting to see the different ways people were dealing with the panic – at some point we went to a theme park near the farm run by a family that had decided to continue living as if everything was fine, and they opened up the park and were charging half price for the entrance. We tried to enjoy the rides but we were not able to rid ourselves of the tremendous anxiety. The dream ended there, stuck wondering how it would all turn out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-1320034906546397521?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1320034906546397521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=1320034906546397521' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1320034906546397521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1320034906546397521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/under-attack.html' title='Under Attack'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-3110400549771667075</id><published>2009-09-10T09:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T09:48:03.267-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Peru'/><title type='text'>Riots, Family</title><content type='html'>Two nights ago I spent the last 2 hours of my day before falling asleep using my computer and listening to the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack. Consequently, I dreamt about riots at Duke much like the riots scene of the movie. It was interesting, and scary. It was not clear what the riots were about, but I spent most of the dream running from place to place trying to avoid either side of whatever was going on. I ended up in a room where and unidentified Indian student was directing the mass production of posters promoting peace (as part of DUU's response to the riots).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night ago I dreamt that I was in Peru, perhaps studying abroad, and my aunt was going to give a lecture at a local university on pharmacology. My cousins were going to go listen too so I thought I would join them. I went there via a van my cousins and I took, and spoke to a male student sitting next to me once I got there and told him I was from the U.S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that exciting, I suppose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-3110400549771667075?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3110400549771667075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=3110400549771667075' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3110400549771667075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3110400549771667075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/riots-family.html' title='Riots, Family'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-5643563731084943507</id><published>2009-09-03T11:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T11:53:49.472-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Welcome to my Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;span xmlns=''&gt;&lt;p&gt;Last night, the group in my study abroad program and I went out for dinner in San Jose. We went to a Peruvian Restaurant, INKA Grill, and needless to say, it was amazing. The food was great, I had some of my favorite dishes, and I initiated a bunch of my new friends into this incredible cuisine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In the process, I definitely felt somewhat in charge for making the experience great for what some people was their first dabbling in Peruvian cuisine. Thus, I did feel a general "host" feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Hence I am not surprised that my dream last night involved me taking all of my study abroad group to my house – except in my dream, I was hosting them at my house in the U.S. I remember helping my mother prepare dinner for everyone, and then figuring out ways to keep everyone entertained. People wanted to go to a Country music hall and sing karaoke, so I suggested a karaoke place (that does not actually exist in reality) that I was familiar with in my town. That was the general plot of my dream. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-5643563731084943507?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5643563731084943507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=5643563731084943507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5643563731084943507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5643563731084943507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/welcome-to-my-home.html' title='Welcome to my Home'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-3223332216519461375</id><published>2009-08-31T18:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-31T18:34:12.742-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fainting'/><title type='text'>Fainting</title><content type='html'>I remember very few details of this dream. I found myself in a public place talking to someone, I think, when all of a sudden I started to feel dizzy. Before I knew it, I lost control of my legs and fell, as the world closed in on me and everything turned black. In the process, I attempted to say "I'm fainting....I'm fainting" but all that came out were slurred "I'm faint...". Before I knew it, I was laying on the ground, completely passed out. However, I was still aware and conscious inside, and I felt trapped in my body.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-3223332216519461375?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3223332216519461375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=3223332216519461375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3223332216519461375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3223332216519461375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/08/fainting.html' title='Fainting'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-8877772594596503423</id><published>2009-08-27T14:43:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-27T23:21:34.319-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='teeth'/><title type='text'>Costa Rica, the Dream</title><content type='html'>Regretfully, I did not record my dreams in Uganda.&lt;br /&gt;Then again, I did not exactly have wireless internet everywhere I went while I was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did not dream last night, but I do remember this dream from a few nights ago -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point in daily life, my teeth began to fall out. One by one, and the more I pushed with my tongue, the more fell out. Then I even grew another tooth in the middle of my lower jaw, which also fell out when I pulled on it. Major freaking out ensued.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-8877772594596503423?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8877772594596503423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=8877772594596503423' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8877772594596503423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8877772594596503423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/08/costa-rican-dream.html' title='Costa Rica, the Dream'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-1086267916405078023</id><published>2009-03-04T15:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-04T15:53:08.287-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dorm'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cold'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grandmother'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Malaria Meds</title><content type='html'>Been inspired to write again.&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I started taking chloroquine in preparation for Spring Break in Guatemala.&lt;br /&gt;Consequently, I have been having some epic dreams.&lt;br /&gt;1) It felt like everyone in my life showed up in this one - really unconnected people. I think at some point my grandmother passed down some sort of family wisdom down to me. At another point in the dream, my hallmate walked past me.&lt;br /&gt;2) Today, I took an intense nap and dreamt I was at college, although the campus was next to a huge lake. People were swimming in it despite the cold and rain because it was the cool thing to do. My friend Emily and I were in a room with 4 other people who were waking up from sleep after a hard day's night. Her friend was there, sleeping, but her friend's boyfriend was either awake or talking in his sleep. I heard him say "I don't want to be with her." Emily and I decided to head out of there and go eat in the Duke Faculty Commons. She just wanted to get something to go, so I was going to do the same. Then we heard a man being served by a waiter ask him if they catered "last meals." He wanted to bring his dying father in for the best last meal he could provide him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-1086267916405078023?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/1086267916405078023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=1086267916405078023' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1086267916405078023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/1086267916405078023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2009/03/malaria-meds.html' title='Malaria Meds'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-3029216862431766664</id><published>2008-10-02T13:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T13:06:26.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Been a While</title><content type='html'>1) Mother, brother, fighting. Then, they start to bleed out of their mouths, and stop fighting. They freak out because of the blood that is just pouring out of their mouths, almost gushing. They then begin to cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I am not sure what was going on, but I saw Robin and David somewhere. We were both wearing yellow glasses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-3029216862431766664?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3029216862431766664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=3029216862431766664' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3029216862431766664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3029216862431766664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/10/its-been-while.html' title='It&apos;s Been a While'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-6035067067179630827</id><published>2008-08-08T10:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T10:21:52.451-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lover'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='science'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Howard Hughes'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>1) I had a dream where I was in high school or something and I was teaching a science course, or auditing one so that I could later on teach. I remember I wasn't sure about some science fact the teacher had said and I was very upset that I thought she was teaching falsehoods. Then I went to another teacher to ask what the correct fact was, and it turned out to be Mary Nihjout from the Howard Hughes program, hahaha. She confirmed that I was right and the other teacher was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) ill try and remember this dream. it comes and goes - i just know i had one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I don't want to get into the details of this dream, but essentially it was a fantasy (nonsexual) of a social situation that I wish would occur but I know is futile to wish for. It was essentially like a perfect romantic outcome, and all my worries were washed away for the time this dream lasted, but upon waking up I realized how unrealistic and illogical it all was. Overall it made me very sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-6035067067179630827?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/6035067067179630827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=6035067067179630827' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/6035067067179630827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/6035067067179630827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/08/1-i-had-dream-where-i-was-in-high.html' title=''/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-6663436943497053839</id><published>2008-08-06T12:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T12:47:43.990-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucid!</title><content type='html'>So I have always wanted to really have a lucid dream. I have come close before, but I woke up too fast. This time, I stayed in the dream. This is how it went...&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I remember is that I took all my clothes off in a moment of desperation, frustration, and a need for total freedom. I then proceeded to run outside, where I found myself on the Duke campus, and leaving my friends behind, I went streaking throughout campus, including the loop, and the BC plaza, and somehow I ended up on an isolated part of Central Campus. At this moment, I suddenly came to my senses, still dreaming out of my control, and I became very ashamed and remorseful of what I had just done. I was embarassed and sad that I had done something so crazy. Next thing I knew,I wanted to find clothes ASAP but i had no idea where i could find some clothes without running into more people who would see me naked. So i walked into the nearest building, and I was in a standard lobby, with some couches and chairs. No one was around, and suddenly, clothes appeared on some of the seats, along with my purse. At this very moment, i became aware that I was dreaming. I then became worried that I would wake up, having come to this realization, so I tried a technique I had heard of before; when you feel you might wake up while lucidly dreaming, pretend you are spinning in circles. Thus I did, and although I thought I was going to wake up because I thought I could see some lightning coming from the real world, I managed to stay in the dream. As I was lucid, I decided to try and summon a friend. So basically I wasn't sure how I was going to do that, but i just kind of said their name and made some sort of hand gesture, but nothing happened. So i then decided that maybe to make things happen in your lucid dream, it might be necessary to do things as if they were real. So I grabbed my purse and pulled out my blackberry - identical to the one I own in reality - and tried to enter my friend's name so I could call him and ask him to come. But I couldnt type in his name. It would only let me enter my brother's name. At this point I became frustrated and unsure of whether or not I was really lucid. So I decided to test the reality of my surroundings. So I told myself, if I hit this wooden wall, and I am dreaming, my hand will go straight through. So I hit the wall, and in my dream, my hand was stopped by the wall. At this moment I began to freak out and I was seriously concerned that everything I was already glad had been just a dream was indeed a reality, and I would have to face their consequences. So I tried hitting the wall again, but to no avail. I was even afraid I could break my hand if I tried again. And thus, I ceased hitting the wall and in my moment of disappointment, my dream ended.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-6663436943497053839?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/6663436943497053839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=6663436943497053839' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/6663436943497053839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/6663436943497053839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/08/lucid.html' title='Lucid!'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-7866194551460663060</id><published>2008-07-17T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T22:19:59.041-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ocean'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='night'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rain'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='salt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Howard Hughes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='green'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='white'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='falling'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lover'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='David S.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun shot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drunk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baby'/><title type='text'>Baby, Batman, Bucket, Booze, Bad</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;1) Wow so this one was fairly interesting. It started in a hospital, I'd just given birth to my son. I was still 18, still in college, and I had a child. I remember being emotionally distant from him, but mostly because I was overwhelmed that I had a kid. Still in college, how was I going to handle it? I couldn't even begin to think about it, but I remember thinking a lot about how my party days were over, and that I would hardly even have time to eat or breathe between studying and the baby. I remember my mother was there with me as we walked out of the hospital, she seemed supportive. I had the baby in a carrier, but he felt so heavy. I could barely lift the carrier. I am not sure what else happened, but at some point I was walking to meet some friends and introduce the baby. At some point I went into a building and when I walked out, I realized I had forgotten my baby. I went back in and was relieved to find him in the carrier when I went back. Then I remember walking on a boardwalk, and my friend asked me who the father was. I told him, and he asked if the guy knew. I said he did, and I was going to visit him later to meet the baby. We seemed to be on friendly terms I guess. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2) I had this dream right after I saw &lt;em&gt;The Dark Knight. &lt;/em&gt;Midnight showing, of course. Mostly what I remember is that I was in a flesh-colored room with a table in it, and then I heard gun shots outside in the hall. I took cover under the table and tried to drag myself along the floor towards a corner of the room. I kept hearing gun shots and I remember I was very scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I woke up in my dream next to a young man. We were in what I guess was his apartment - it had green colored brick walls and lots of other colors from patterned fabrics and posters. I remembered I had to go somewhere so I woke up and went to what I guess was the equivalent of the Bryan Center (Duke's student center). I then realized there were a lot of small white tents that had popped up everywhere, even along the way to the Bryan Center, on the grass and etc. Somehow I found out that a lot of Indian people were dying spontaneously worldwide, and apparently it was customary for Hindu priests to come to the dead and embalm their bodies at the location of their death.  Then I found out I was assigned to go around to each of the bodies, all surrounded by a group of priests, and hand out salt from a bucket to them. The salt, apparently, was the first step of the embalment, and it was poured on the faces of the dead. At one point I stopped to watch this being done, but a priest scolded me and told me not to watch the ceremony, just to keep walking and pass salt. When they were done with a body, they built a small white tent around it, for the body was supposed to rest at the location of death for seven days.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) In this dream, I kept falling down from drunkenness as me and some Howard Hughes kids were walking, even though I had only had a few sips of wine in the dream. While we were walking around with my friends, I remembered binge drinking not the day before, but the day before yesterday (in the dream). Regardless, it didn't make sense for me to be so out of control and unbalanced - nor did it make sense that we were walking around with me like this in broad daylight. I remember it was a goofy but scary feeling, and I vividly remember a point where I was tripping down some steps in a plaza very slowly, and towards the end of my dream I fell over once again and was too drunk to get up. Then I laid down in the rain.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;5) I woke up lying next to an old friend on my bed at home. We had fallen asleep talking and surprisingly my mother hadn't noticed or anything, so when I woke up he also woke up and we started talking, laughing, flirting. Then next thing you know, we are fooling around while I'm telling him I want to but we might get caught, and he says no way we will. Then we're at it when my mother comes in with some clean clothes to hang in my closet, and by instinct we try to hide our nakedness amongst the racks in my closet as my mom continues about her business, diverting her eyes and beginning to sternly scold us, without yelling, in a chilling voice, talking about how what I am doing is an act I should feel complete shame and sin for doing. Then I may have tried to say something as she walks away, clearly in a state of shock. At another point in my dream, I am in a car with my family and we are driving down a very busy city street. I see a man picking up his child from daycare. Later on we drive past a marquee that says "Don't forget to pick up James" and somehow I draw a connection between the two.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-7866194551460663060?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7866194551460663060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=7866194551460663060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7866194551460663060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7866194551460663060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/07/baby-batman-bucket-booze-bad.html' title='Baby, Batman, Bucket, Booze, Bad'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-4033425379763792716</id><published>2008-07-16T09:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T09:31:12.359-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='party'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gelato'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='friends'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sorority'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bedroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alcohol'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Natalie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dance'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mirror'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drunk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mirecourt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='future'/><title type='text'>Parties and a Coma</title><content type='html'>1) Mirecourt friends and company were hanging out at an apartment. It belonged to some friends, who in reality do have an apartment, but the dream version was much more urban and contemporary looking. I remember we were talking, taking some shots of vodka, and I remember being remotely tipsy in my dream. Everyone was just kind of relaxed and chatting but I felt like dancing, so seeing as no one else wanted to come along, I walked over to a club where my current roommate's sorority was having a sponsored club night. I went to the door and saw her dressed in black, as a hostess, with a light blue crown with Roman letters, MX, on it, and some of her sorority sisters were dressed the same way. When I went up to talk to her she gave me a box of fake nails and asked me to show her how to put them on. I did, and asked her if she needed help, but she just said she had already gotten some other ones on. I don't remember what happened right after, but then I found myself in line at a gelato store, and I got some coconut gelato.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I woke up in my dream to find myself on a bed, with my mother and grandmother, possibly my father, standing over me. They were crying tears of joy, and soon after I discovered I had been in a coma for four years. I was now 24, and I don't know why but at age 20 I had gone into this coma. At the time, I was apparently also engaged. The problem was, I couldn't remember to who, but I didn't want to let anyone know or for whatever reason, I allowed my mother to fawn over me and get me ready for my wedding. I remember looking at a mirror for the first time after waking up and crying upon seeing how I had aged, even in those four years. I looked older, and I looked like an adult woman, no longer a college kid. As I prepared for my wedding, I was in shock, completely emotionless, not knowing how to start over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-4033425379763792716?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4033425379763792716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=4033425379763792716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4033425379763792716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4033425379763792716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/07/parties-and-coma.html' title='Parties and a Coma'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-7797476418629854878</id><published>2008-07-11T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T08:28:39.563-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jewelry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trees'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lightning'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blue'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medicine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='storm'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='virus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='college'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='river'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='naked'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='glass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='science'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zombies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='violin'/><title type='text'>Viruses, Water and Trees</title><content type='html'>1) I had a dream where I discovered a virus that was present on every surface in the world, and thus far it was completely harmless. But I developed a way to see these viruses in live action, and I vividly remember watching them crawl all around people's bodies and out of their mouths, etc. As I observed them more, I realized a pattern where some of them would mutate but then would not be able to reproduce themselves, so they "died" off. But then I observed some survivors, and I realized every one of those viruses had the potential to quickly become harmful to humans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) In a fantastical water park, I was a musical guest along with three other girls in my quartet, and we performed a special act. The stage was set up as a tall cliff with a lagoon on the top and a larger one at the bottom - the performers, us four, were in the top lagoon and we were dressed like synchronized swimmers, while the audience was in swimsuits at the bottom lagoon. We were hooked up to a great sound system, and we played our music while half of our bodies were submerged in water. I originally began to play the violin but then traded with another girl, and I ended up playing these magical-sounding glass tubes. Our music was very environmental, airy, and mystical.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I was volunteering at an elementary school where my mom was substituting. I had to volunteer because it was a requirement for my medical studies. I remember needing to go to the bathroom and getting locked into the bathroom. I also remember watching a music class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Some friends and I were on a trip somewhere, and while we were eating in the dining hall, about half of the people in there became flesh-eating zombies. I vaguely remembered having been in a situation like it before, so I knew how to dodge them and my friends and I escaped into an adjacent room. All of a sudden, however, zombies showed up in the room, but this time they didn't attack us immediately. The king and queen of the zombies came in and the king demanded we help them pick the nicest piece of jewelry for his queen out of a selection he brought in, but he said we couldn't steal any of it and if we did and tried to get away, an alarm would ring and we would be killed. Remembering how to escape, I decided I may as well try and escape and steal something. So I chose a beautiful necklace made of many blue stones, and snuck it in my pocket as I pretended to show the queen another piece. Then in a moment of distraction, I escaped into a room I remembered from before, and I found another man who had also escaped. Soon after, however, another zombie (or someone on their side) showed up and told us we were screwed. At that moment we ran out the door, set off the alarm, but managed to get into a van and drive off before the zombies could get to us, and we left them in the distance. Thinking we were safe, we drove to a friend's house by the river and walked to the river. The river was one of the clearest rivers I had ever seen in my life - even clearer than pool water, and there was nothing but a light blue bottom. It was sparkling in the sun. Everyone then decided to get in the water, but I saw rain coming and possibly lightning so I decided to go in. I walked into a bathroom and found a guy friend of mine in there, sitting on the toilet reading a newspaper. I walked back out, took all my clothes except my bottoms off, and walked in again, and tried to seduce the young man. He resisted, and said we couldn't do this because he was not interested in me, and I said that was OK because it was just going to be a one-time, no strings attached hook up. But then we heard screaming outside because our friends saw the zombies coming. So we went outside, and I remembered zombies were scared of water. So I made everyone get a cup and fill it with water, and we waited for them to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) I don't remember the beginning of this dream, but at some point I was sitting on the main quad of a half-imaginary university, and it was fall. We had many visitors and they were curious to see the campus. An old couple approached me and asked me what kind of trees there were. I remember saying they were cedar, pine, and juniper. Then there was a tree they pointed to that I could not identify. Then I remember sitting on the grass in the main quad with a bunch of logs, and I was sawing them in half with a double sided saw. People smiled at me as I walked by. I remember the smell of the wood. At some other point in my dream, my mother drove me to a grocery store, and my brother was also present. At another point, I remember being naked and someone walking in on me, and me screaming "GET OUT!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-7797476418629854878?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7797476418629854878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=7797476418629854878' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7797476418629854878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7797476418629854878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/07/viruses-water-and-trees.html' title='Viruses, Water and Trees'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-3075983465621141537</id><published>2008-06-27T22:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T08:32:29.276-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='husband'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='physics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='massage'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medicine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sick'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chocolate'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gym'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hotel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Morgan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='married'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='airport'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mrs. Ingle'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toolbox'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sad'/><title type='text'>Games with my head</title><content type='html'>A few dreams to catch up on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) My mother,brother, random invented male character and I checked into a hotel. It generally felt like a road trip, until my mom handed me a key and said "well guys, here is the key to you guys' room" with a smile to both me and the guy. Feeling a little weirded out by this, I brushed it off as a joke and followed the guy to the room and he stopped at the door, adding to my discomfort. He then asked me if I was ready for tonight, and seeing my confusion he went ahead and opened the door to reveal a huge room. The partial view we had from the door was an entire fully equipped private gym, and the rest of this area of the room was composed of many different kinds of black massage machines. Then he told me one of them was called the "chocolate chip massage" and you placed chocolate chips in it, and then they were melted and massaged onto your body. He asked me if I would use it with him and in disgust I yelled no and asked him what was wrong with him. At this point he asked me "what's wrong sweetheart" and proceeded to tell me that night was going to be a very special first night together as a married couple. Then I began to freak out screaming I wasn't married to him and that that had only been a weird dream I had had and that he was crazy, and he insisted we had married and the dream I had of our wedding, along with others of his proposal and dates which I swore I had only had dreams about, were in reality true events. So I was married to him, even though I wasn't even attracted to him in the slightest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) I felt very sick in my dream, in addition to feeling very sad. It was very psychosomatic. I went to Morgan because I was feeling so bad and he held me and told me to go get some medicine (Benadryl, I think). Then I walked around my high school looking for someone who might have some. Then I found my old physic teacher, Mrs. Ingle, in her room. She asked me what was wrong and said I didn't look so good. I told her I felt sick and she asked me to pass her her purse, which in the dream looked like a toolbox. She then asked me what was wrong, and I told her I was sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) I had a dream where I ran a test similar to the one I was supposed to do in lab the next day, and I got the data back and it was exactly what I didn't want to happen. I also remember seeing my Howard Hughes roommate pipetting liquids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) My friends and I were having a good time in some random girl's house, a mutual friend of ours. Then we heard a warning for a flood, and we all jumped in Doug's car and evacuated to the nearest aiport.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-3075983465621141537?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3075983465621141537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=3075983465621141537' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3075983465621141537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3075983465621141537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/06/games-with-my-head.html' title='Games with my head'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-7083536190504464798</id><published>2008-06-22T07:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T07:49:01.135-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gold'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jello shots'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jewelry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='monkey'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='computer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recipe'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alcohol'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='doctor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Morgan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='professor'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='save'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='medical school'/><title type='text'>Doctors and Jello Shots</title><content type='html'>I can't remember where my dream started but it contained the following sections, in no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was preparing a presentation or slideshow of some sort, and it was an assignment for a grade. I spent about 3 hours on it as soon as I got home from school because I wanted to do something fun later that night so I had to get it done. Then I clicked "save" and checked my email or something. I then remembered to go back and check something, and I found out I hadn't saved anything at all. My little brother then asked me if I had saved it in the special format, which I hadn't, and then said to me there was nothing I could do about it then. So, I was very angry and frustrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another occasion, I was typing up a recipe for jello shots on the computer to post up on facebook or some other public profile. Then I realized Morgan was behind me because after I entered part of the recipe he told me I needed to correct an amount I had entered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I found myself in a big lecture - I have a feeling I was in my first year of medical school. My professor finished her talk and I went to meet her afterwards. She had sprawled out on a table a bunch of vintage jewelry she was  trying to sell, of which I remember wanting a pin that looked like a gold tree branch. The professor carried her small baby pet monkey on a little chain with a pedestal around her neck. I think its name was Dojo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-7083536190504464798?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/7083536190504464798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=7083536190504464798' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7083536190504464798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/7083536190504464798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/06/doctors-and-jello-shots.html' title='Doctors and Jello Shots'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-4411580527117844701</id><published>2008-06-21T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T10:35:32.535-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bedroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='window'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lover'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='children'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='red'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='surgeon'/><title type='text'>I wished for a dream</title><content type='html'>Well, looks like I did dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dream was in two parts. At first I was shadowing surgeons at an unidentified hospital for the summer, and my parents came for an open house, with my little brother. I remember something about them becoming slightly upset with someone and not having that great of a time, but reassuring me that they were very proud (at least my mother did).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second part of my dream involved me preparing for someone to come over to what must have been my own private apartment. Whoever it was that was coming, I can't remember who, was definitely my lover of sorts because I spent most of my dream preparing my bedroom for special privacy. I made the bed, I organized the pillows, I put some nice clothes and perfume on, and I remember feeling very excited about the upcoming sex. The final step was the closing the blinds, but before I did that I remember looking outside the window and seeing it was the early afternoon and the sun was shining brightly on the street. There was a group of children playing, and I remember in particular seeing a hippie-looking young teenage girl, a blonde, wearing a red, flowy blouse and laughing as she played with a large red ball.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-4411580527117844701?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4411580527117844701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=4411580527117844701' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4411580527117844701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4411580527117844701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-wished-for-dream.html' title='I wished for a dream'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-5249646322410837810</id><published>2008-06-20T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T22:48:58.336-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='driving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='car'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='accident'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='finger'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='phone'/><title type='text'>life hasnt been a dream</title><content type='html'>It looks like it has been 2 weeks since I reported a dream. I've been busy here in durham with my job and friends and I've had other things trouble my mind that have blocked my dreaming. But there has been one, only one dream this week that I seem to remember.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know who it was but someone had an accident and their finger was cut off. I remember trying to stop their bleeding and preserve their finger, while calling 911 and driving to the hospital at the same time. I remember I wanted to let them know what happened so they could be ready for us when we got there.I vaguely remember running around inside the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope tonight will bring me a dream.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-5249646322410837810?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/5249646322410837810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=5249646322410837810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5249646322410837810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/5249646322410837810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/06/life-hasnt-been-dream.html' title='life hasnt been a dream'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-2000884620728929390</id><published>2008-06-06T05:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T05:42:23.640-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='childhood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='internship'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bathroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kegan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Will B.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alyssa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seafood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex boyfriend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='virginity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shower'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sex'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='house'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beach'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hospital'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anger'/><title type='text'>Childhood, Memories, Sex</title><content type='html'>A few dreams to report from the past few days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been watching too much Grey's Anatomy. I had a dream where I was an intern at a hospital, and I'd just finished a really long, over 24 hour, shift, and I was eager to get home. But on my way out I happened to be holding one of my most cherished stuffed animals from my childhood, a little calf. Her name is Muca. Anyway on my way out there was a little girl with her nanny. Upon seeing my toy, she seemed really excited by it so I thought it would be cute to let her see it up closer and to let her pet it. But before I knew it she snatched it out of my hands, and said "now it's mine." I then told her it wasn't, and she needed to give it back, cause it belonged to me. The girl refused and I looked to her nanny for some support, who in turn just shrugged at me and told me she couldn't do anything about it. That certainly ticked me off some more so then I told the girl she needed to give it back immediately. The nanny then interrupted and once again told me there was nothing I could do, it belonged to the girl now. At this point the little girl began taunting me with "it's mine, it's mine, it's mine!" Then I completely lost my temper. I turned to the girl and yelled, "Shut up you little girl and give it back right now!"At that point, the nanny looked at me, completely outraged for yelling so cruelly to a little girl. She then exclaimed "EXCUSE ME! How could you talk to a little girl like that?! You had no right. I need to speak to your supervisor right now. Take me to her right now! I'm going to sue you...." So then I spent the rest of my dream looking for my supervisor all around the hospital, pissed, knowing the nanny couldn't do anything, and on the way, I saw a few random people around the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In another dream, my boyfriend and I went to Galveston Beach to eat seafood. We were in a restaurant when my friend Alyssa showed up. We were excited to see her we asked her to sit with us. Then my old waiter friend Kegan showed up, apparently he was a server at the place, and he chilled out with us for a bit. Then on the way out of the restaurant, I ran into an old high school friend, Will B. I asked him what he was doing there and said he was enjoying a bit of his summer at the beach with his mom. Then he added my ex boyfriend was driving bicycle taxis now and he had just dropped him off. When I looked across the street, there he was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day I had a dream where a guy was chilling out with me at my house, and we ended up showering together (while my parents were in the house, too). Then when we got out of the shower he started feeling me up, and I told him I didn't want to keep going. I couldn't. Then he said, "you're right, I can't do this," and he proceeded to tell me he had lost his virginity, and to whom. Then we went into my room in towels and my dad walked in and told us dinner was ready, and totally didn't realize what was going on. I think he even talked to us a little bit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-2000884620728929390?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2000884620728929390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=2000884620728929390' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2000884620728929390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2000884620728929390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/06/childhood-memories-sex.html' title='Childhood, Memories, Sex'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-4271820841439881625</id><published>2008-05-30T10:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T22:03:01.081-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='high school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mall'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ice cream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='desert'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cake'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='train'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michael'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Peru'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='basketball'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='snow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food'/><title type='text'>Malls, deserts, snow, everything</title><content type='html'>Ihaven't posted in a while, but not because I haven't had any dreams but because I kept forgetting what they were. Here we go then.&lt;br /&gt;A few nights ago...&lt;br /&gt;I was in large mall parking lot and I was waiting or looking for someone, maybe my dad or some friends, maybe both. I ended up walking in and around the mall. I ended up finding a Peruvian food stand and I ordered some food, which was alright but I suggested to the chef that they stick to cooking a Peruvian style of chicken instead of trying to cover so many dishes. The chef then became very upset with me and told me I had no right to make that suggestion. Then I remember talking to my dad who confirmed he thought that stand was pretty bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night after I found myself dreaming about being on a trip with my mom and brother. At one point we had to get on a triple decker train, but my brother had to go to the bathroom before we boarded. Then we boarded without him and the train left without him. Then I remember being in a desert, walking around with my mom and Michael and maybe my brother, apparently on some sort of tour. We walked around  a bunch of plateaus and mesas. But we were alone, tired, and didn't have any water. But then Michael found an abandoned stand and somehow found ice cream in it. My mom didn't have any but I did. Then we kept walking around and we reached a rocky stretch of land but then we found a flattened out stretch of land with a velvet rope lining the edge.&lt;br /&gt;Last night was one of the weirdest dreams of all. I don't know everything that occurred or the order. I remember there was at some point snow. I had a cottage in the woods during winter. A group of kids that I went to high school with was going around the neighborhood door to door asking for donations for a charity. At some point I baked a chocolate cake and maybe gave it to an old friend. I also went to my high school and worked out with the basketball team. I remember seeing a bunch of people I hadn't seen in a while. I don't know why I saw the people I did. Weird.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-4271820841439881625?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/4271820841439881625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=4271820841439881625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4271820841439881625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/4271820841439881625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/malls-deserts-snow-everything.html' title='Malls, deserts, snow, everything'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-2141411437279453552</id><published>2008-05-26T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T19:22:07.310-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cousins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='grave'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ex boyfriend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='flowers'/><title type='text'>Family and Death</title><content type='html'>The night before last I had a dream where I spent some time with my cousins in Peru. We pretty much did a bunch of sketchy teenage things and ate some food, and then went to a sketchy teenage party. It was a pretty cool college party. I remember eating some chicken and rice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I had a dream that some I knew died, and I thought it was my dad. I think I remember seeing him in a coffin. But then I realized my dad was still walking and around and alive after I went to the burial. At the burial I threw petals of multicolored flowers into the grave. It was strangely beautiful. I don't know who it was that died. I also remember hearing something about my ex boyfriend's new girlfriend. I don't know her, but I have wondered about her. In my dream, I heard her name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's weird about my death dream is that two girls died in a car accident early last night, very near my house. I didn't find out until this afternoon. My mom says a lot of people brought flowers to the place of the accident.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-2141411437279453552?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2141411437279453552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=2141411437279453552' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2141411437279453552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2141411437279453552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/family-and-death.html' title='Family and Death'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-2760107139709715881</id><published>2008-05-24T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T11:06:43.513-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream within a dream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cousins'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Marco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crying'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='classroom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='school'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='science'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='physics'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='violin'/><title type='text'>Dream Within a Dream</title><content type='html'>Last night I began my dreaming as a student who was attending a sort of blend between college and high school, and I was the last pick for the orchestra, but I was in. So everyone was getting to know each other when all of a sudden the director came out of his office and told everyone we had an hour to practice before chair placement auditions and then handed us the music. Everyone panicked and went to different classrooms to practice. I was freaking out and also went into a room to practice, but it took me forever to find a room. After playing a few notes I realized my violin sounded terrible. Then I went to find the director to tune it, and on the way there I broke my violin bow. At that point I "woke up" (in my dream still) and I was surrounded by the orchestra. I told them about my dream and they laughed.&lt;br /&gt;At some later point in the dream I had to submit a proposal for a science project. Everyone's proposal was great except for mine, because I had forgotten to use some weird physics equation which was essential to the project. So the teacher asked me to do it again. I went off to the library and I cried in frustration. Then I remember focusing very hard on the equation and what it was talking about, and I figured out a new proposal, and went back and turned it in to my teacher.&lt;br /&gt;Additionally, I had another dream during the night where I rode around in a homemade vehicle, and I had to find my brother somewhere in the city, and I ran into my cousins.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-2760107139709715881?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2760107139709715881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=2760107139709715881' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2760107139709715881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2760107139709715881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/dream-within-dream.html' title='Dream Within a Dream'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-8230716367462514822</id><published>2008-05-23T20:30:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-24T11:07:46.078-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='acne'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nightmare'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alyssa'/><title type='text'>Acne Nightmare</title><content type='html'>Before I went to sleep at Alyssa's house last night, we ended up talking about Accutane acne medicine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up having a dream (nightmare?) where I had some really intense acne all over my face when I woke up the next morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-8230716367462514822?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8230716367462514822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=8230716367462514822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8230716367462514822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8230716367462514822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/before-i-went-to-sleep-at-alyssas-house.html' title='Acne Nightmare'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-3261860200622311681</id><published>2008-05-22T11:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T11:11:40.205-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Matt J.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alcohol'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drunk'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alyssa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='frat'/><title type='text'>Drunken Frat Party</title><content type='html'>Last night I had a dream where it was the last few days of college. My mom had come over to help me pack up my stuff, and then she'd gone to sleep at the hotel. Soon after my mom left my friend Alyssa and I collectively decided we wanted to get really drunk. So we walked around campus and ended up finding my friend Matt J., who was partying it up with his frat, which in reality is DKE but in the dream it was AEPi. So we when into some room where he was but we decided not to drink there because it looked sketchy. Then we talked to a very drunk Matt who said very few words. The girls who were also there also said very little, which made for a very awkward moment overall and Alyssa and I decided to leave, and then I decided to split and go pack some more things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-3261860200622311681?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/3261860200622311681/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=3261860200622311681' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3261860200622311681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/3261860200622311681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/drunken-frat-party.html' title='Drunken Frat Party'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-8887054683966305040</id><published>2008-05-22T00:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T00:39:36.918-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='news'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kennedy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alyssa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='zebra'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ashley Olsen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Derek'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='David S.'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gun shot'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pills'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='water'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Japan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TV'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boyfriend'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mary-Kate Olsen'/><title type='text'>First few dreams</title><content type='html'>Here are some dreams I haven't posted yet. They get progressively more interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I. For some reason, the Olsen twins invited me to some high-end fashion show. To get in I had to say I was with the Olsen twins and the security guard asked me what their names were. In my dream, I was apparently an idiot and said "Mary...and Kate" ... "oh wait, Ashley." Well I got in anyway and they took me around the show helping me pick out some ridiculously expensive things I could never afford and then they sent me out at the end of the show. At the door some cashier started ringing the items up and I had to stop and say I couldn't afford all the couture jewelry and stuff, so I picked one item out that I like the best and payed too much for it. Then I stepped out and I was like in a village market or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;II. I was sitting in a classroom at Duke, which in reality does not exist, that was mostly gray colored and shaped like a semi circle, with long tables curving around with seats evenly spaced out behind them. I was sitting in class and my boyfriend came in, late, holding a rosemary chicken drumstick which he was eating, and it smelled delicious. It made me think of some chicken dish they used to have at my elementary school. So when class was over we went to the cafeteria for lunch to get me some chicken and low and behold the cafeteria was just like my elementary school one. I got in line, bought my chicken, went to sit down next to my boyfriend, and then hesitated and sat in the seat across from the empty one next to him to test him, and then his friend Derek came and sat in the spot, talking quite loudly and excitedly I might add. Then my high school principal came into the cafeteria and made some forgettable announcement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;III. All I remember about this dream is seeing my friend Alyssa laughing hysterically. And as weird it is to type this, especially following that sentence, at some point my dream took a different turn and by the end of it I was essentially doing what I guess was masturbating in my dream, although there wasn't a real-life motion attached to it. Please don't put the two together, as tempting as it may be for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IV. I was visiting some friend's house who doesn't exist in real life, but in the dream we were buds and he had a mansion in Colorado or something. So he essentially owned his own little ski town and his multiple cottages were connected through a trolley that ran alongside a canal built into his home. We rode on it and at some point decided to go swimming in the canal and all of a sudden I found myself going down a slide, which led to some imaginary famous press conference room in Japan. My boyfriend was there and we apparently were all of a sudden taking a trip there. My friend David S. showed up at some point and he was applying to get a job there so I showed him around or something because I was temporarily in access of the behind the scenes. Then I went to find my boyfriend and we ended up finding lodging in a hotel that had an integrated water park, so you had to ride slides and etc. to get to your room, which was awesome. Then at some point we were naked at the top of a slide and to our dismay we discovered some onlookers soon after. Then we slid down the slide and ended up in the press conference room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V. So this one only makes sense because I had been watching TV on the couch before I fell asleep and I had seen a combination of crime investigation shows about murders, an animal planet show about zebras, and various news stations, which lulled me to sleep. The dream is as follows. First I realized I was in a reality TV show and competing against a group of adults. On some sort of first task we ended up having to go to Ted Kennedy's house and ask him about his tumor (with all due respect). Then we looked outside his window and realized he had a forest as a backyard, which wouldn't have been all that extraordinary if we hadn't heard a gun shot in the distance and then seen a herd of zebras run through the forest. But we didn't have time to pay attention to that because then a bat flew into the room. At first we thought it was a huge moth but then realized it was a bat, which then died but we never paid much attention to it because then one of the women competing in the reality show wanted to show me some special pills she had. After swallowing them, her voice became able to change into that of a different newscaster every ten seconds as she was talking. Then two gay guys also competing came out of the closet randomly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-8887054683966305040?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/8887054683966305040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=8887054683966305040' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8887054683966305040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/8887054683966305040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/first-few-dreams.html' title='First few dreams'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5900470752314227101.post-2595143938914036555</id><published>2008-05-21T23:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-21T23:43:18.263-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duke'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Central Campus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Howard Hughes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dream'/><title type='text'>When I'm in the middle of a dream</title><content type='html'>Hello readers. In Christmas of 2007, a good friend at the time gave me a very nice journal he had purposely stolen through a White Elephant Exchange at a holiday party. As time has passed since then, it turns out we are no longer on the good terms we used to fall under and so until now, the journal had been largely unnoticed. Recently I decided it was about time I put it to good use. I was going to fill its pages with records of my dreams, every night that I could remember them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That idea failed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I have to admit defeat and surrender to technology, I just can't write in it every day with the ease I have with an online blog, where thoughts quickly become nicely typed words, and the journal is always at hand in the form of my laptop or Blackberry browser. It really is very paradoxical of me, a self-proclaimed romantic, but shoot. I must wave my white flag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't worry, I'll try not to let the freedom of a keyboard make my entries as long and cluttered as my college paper drafts tend to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So from now on, I will share my dreams with the Internet, you, and in the future, myself. I guess when I dream something I can't really post, I'll go back to the poor tangible journal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*for kicks, here's the first few entries I wrote:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5/12/08&lt;br /&gt;    It's been a while since I got this [the journal] as a "gift," as you may be able to say, by the dedication. But now I'm ready to put this to good use. Dream journal - begin. (Date goes by the day which preceded the night that the dream took place unless otherwise stated.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5/10/08&lt;br /&gt;    I dreamt [no spell check on handwritten journals] an asteroid was supposed to hit the U.S. At the time I was at Duke for summer school/Howard Hughes and I decided that if I was to die by the asteroid it was fate so I didn't bother hiding. So as I walked outside I saw a big rock fall from the sky into a construction site next to Central Campus, which was deep. Deep enough for the rock to fall in and then bounce out, and back in. Nothing else seemed to happen. When I went back to my apartment I decided to go by my boyfriend's room and and see what he was up to. But as I stepped out the ground was covered in a fine green powder that smelled toxic - some sort of fallout. So I went back inside and I was directed by a student to a route that led me to my boyfriend's room from the inside. My recollection stops there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5900470752314227101-2595143938914036555?l=catherinedreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/feeds/2595143938914036555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5900470752314227101&amp;postID=2595143938914036555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2595143938914036555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5900470752314227101/posts/default/2595143938914036555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://catherinedreams.blogspot.com/2008/05/when-im-in-middle-of-dream.html' title='When I&apos;m in the middle of a dream'/><author><name>Catherine Castillo</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='20' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_K4BhFeo0Fik/SDUXnu76pPI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7n9i7OHc5ws/S220/picasabackground.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
