Bring me the Hebrew, Daniel.

In my dream, I was hanging out with my friend Staghounds. I think we were, like, next-door neighbors or something. We went to lots and lots of used book stores. Then we went to a horse race, except it was like the local dirt-track version of horse racing; very casual. And somehow a mascot pig got loose on the track, and it was faster than the horses, which the crowd seemed to find extremely peculiar.

We left when the horse racing was over and they had started a flat track motorcycle race; as we were leaving the stands, I looked over my shoulder and noticed they'd had a tremendous pileup on the back stretch, leaving the winner to wobble down the track on his own, even though his bike kept falling over.

Then we got a ride from Og in his Explorer. Staghounds was sitting up front, talking to Og, and I was riding in back. I noticed that since I was sitting up high, I could look down into the vehicles around me, which is always a novel sensation for me. There was a bronze-colored '64 Pontiac Catalina that kept following us and trying to pace us, but Og kept cutting it off. Looking down into the car, I realized that it was empty; nobody was driving it. "Og, dude, that car is driving itself!"

"I know," he growled, "That's why I'm not letting it pass!"

"Are you sure that's wise?" I asked. (I mean, by my way of thinking, pilotless demon cars have the right-of-way.)

When I looked back at the car, now there was somebody in it. Oh, there was still nobody driving it, but there was an old man in the passenger seat. He smiled and waved at me. And the car wasn't a Pontiac anymore, now it was a cream-and-maroon Austin Mini.

Then I was dropped off at my ex's place, except he lived in a small town now, and we had to go get him registered to vote, at the combination 7-11 and post office. We went back to his house, where an old roomie of mine was waiting, and the three of us played this awesome video game that was like a combination of System Shock and Left 4 Dead.

Then I woke up.