Weird dreams upon returning to New Jersey and sleeping beside Casey. In one (they all ran together, but I imagine they were seperate dreams), Casey, Dave and I are on our way into the city for something and as we walk into the PATH station, the train leaves, so we sit to wait. It's a crowded platform but soon what we think is a train approaching. It's not; it's a smaller, one-car unit similar to the maintenance cars in the real subway. Only in my dream, this one is red and it's the Tequila Car. When it rolls in, everyone has to do a tequila shot. So most of the people get up and scramble away, not wanting to do tequila shots.

Once we're in the city, Casey and I are walking through Central Park, or something similar. We look down a hill and see through the trees a museum with a banner advertising the premire exhibition on display: "Just Like Henrik Ibsen" is the name of it. So Casey says, "Just like Henrik Ibsen ... in drag." And that becomes our phrase of the day, something we say to each other whenever we think of it, and we find it hilarious.

So that's what I dreamt upon returning from four days in the midwest rehashing old college memories and making new ones -- or, rather, new memories with college friends.

There's a lot to say about all that, but no time now. It's quarter to midnight, 20 minutes to deadline, and then I've got to fill out my time sheet while awaiting the end of the Mets game in L.A. just to see if we can get the box score in the paper.

Just like Henrik Ibsen in drag.