Sharkie Nightmare

First things first: Attention all English majors!
My books this semester are gonna cost me a fortune! I don't have the money to get them all right away, I'm waiting on my loan. Anyone want to lend me the Shakespeare book, or the "Interesting Narrative" book for History of Lit 2? All Fulbright students, anyone have a Fundamentals of Communications or Finite Math book I can borrow for a few weeks?

So I had this dream last night. I dreamed that I was playing a Sharkie show at the Greek Theater. I was really self conscious because Andrew came and Andrew hates Sharkie as it is. So I got on stage and Gangster handed me a violin. I was like "Psst! Gangster! I don't play violin!" He was like, "No, you'll be good at it." "But I don't have a bow!" So Roger ran out and brought me back a butterknife. "This'll work." The music started and I hesitantly began playing. It sounded horrible. I stopped and motioned to the guys that I was gonna go find another keyboard instead. Roger came with me while Gangster continued to play. As we left the Greek Theater, I passed Andrew. He just glared at me the most horrible glare, and I kicked him. Then he shouted at the top of his voice as I walked off, "I NEVER WANTED TO TELL YOU THIS, BUT YOU'RE THE WORST GUITAR PLAYER IN THE WORLD!!" Roger told me that all the rest of our equiptment was in the crawlspace at my old church. Well my old church used to meet in a bowling alley (for real) and in one of the Sunday school rooms there was this storage space with a tiny window that you could see the bowling alley through (for real.) So in the dream, that storage space had been all closed up except for this little crawlspace which is where our equiptment was. So Roger and I went over there and we got up to where the crawlspace was and realized that some family lived there. We went into the little boy's bedroom where the opening was. The boy's mother had apparently blocked off the opening with a bookshelf attached to the wall. We'd have to break the bookcase to get in. But we remembered there was also a door. But you had to have a key to get in. "Well, I can just ask Pastor Ehrhart if we can borrow the key." "But Lori, Ehrhart's not the pastor anymore. It's Epstein." [And here is where church politics come in. I shall not say anything about Epstein and his key policy.] So we were worried. I prayed and said, "Ok, Roger, we're gonna try anyway." Well somewhere along the way from the church to the church office, Roger became Amanda and we went up to the front desk and I explained the problem about the equiptment. I haven't been to this church much since I graduated high school, but my parents still go so I hoped I'd get a good response since the pastor knows me. The lady at the desk was really nice and said she'd go get him. A few minutes later, not the pastor, but his wife came out to see me. Except in real life, his wife is Ruth; in the dream it was Sandy Edwards, the Associate Vice Chancellor for University Advancement. But Sandy was a crazy person. I tried to explain the problem, and she just started blabbering off gibberish. We had no idea what she was saying. We tried again, and again she just talked gibberish talk. "Ah blaba lauba daba..." But in the end we got the key. We went back to the church, and I guess that's where the dream ends.