<?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-4814943660307943523</id><updated>2011-07-29T01:30:27.402-06:00</updated><title type='text'>my slumbering heart</title><subtitle type='html'>a record of my dreams (minus the overly-personal, inapporpriate, or boring)</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>25</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-34851574616644044</id><published>2010-01-24T09:21:00.011-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-24T09:47:17.539-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a modern day van helsing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/S1x2a2stmFI/AAAAAAAAAUA/3Usrg0tF790/s1600-h/van-helsing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430345454433704018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 294px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 187px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/S1x2a2stmFI/AAAAAAAAAUA/3Usrg0tF790/s320/van-helsing.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;in the past couple of weeks i've had some crazy dreams, but i've been too busy to record them. i'm kind of sad, because i'm sure a few of them were quite fascinating--i just can't remember them now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;last night's, i do remember, however. i moved to this cute little town somewhere on the east coast. it was fall and it was beautiful. everyone in the neighborhood was charming and nice. however, somehow we got infiltrated by something weird. one-by-one people started changing into vampires, zombies, werewolves, etc. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;it got to the point that i was the only real human left, and the town had a meeting to decide what to do about it. everyone liked me a lot and wanted me to stay in the town, so they ended up ruling that i should choose something to be changed into, that way i'd fit in a little better (and so everyone wouldn't keep accidentally almost killing me). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i decided to become a vampire, but i was really nervous. i chose the nicest, most gentle vampire in the town to bite me, because i knew she would make it easier. and it actually wasn't so bad. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;later one day while i was shopping, i turned my back to go into a banana republic and a silver bullet went right past my ear. i turned around to see who'd shot it, and this johnny depp look-alike stood across the street from me with a smoking gun. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to make a long story short, this van helsing wannabe terrorized the town for a while, trying to kill all of us, until we captured him. just like they did for me, a town meeting was held to decide what to do with him. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the end, it was agreed that he should be handed over to me, and i got to turn him into a vampire. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430346130158971138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 275px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/S1x3CL-K6QI/AAAAAAAAAUI/RQmR8SGPmfg/s320/425px-Burne-Jones-le-Vampire.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-34851574616644044?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/34851574616644044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/34851574616644044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2010/01/modern-day-van-helsing.html' title='a modern day van helsing'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/S1x2a2stmFI/AAAAAAAAAUA/3Usrg0tF790/s72-c/van-helsing.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-1181151433971717066</id><published>2010-01-13T22:10:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T22:14:33.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i think i'm going to be ill</title><content type='html'>i was at this crappy, worn-down gym with two of my close guy friends.  i looked over and all of a sudden, they were &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;macking&lt;/span&gt; on each other.  after commenting on how loud and disgusting of kissers they were, i mentioned that the one probably shouldn't be doing that, because he is married.  he told me that it didn't count, because a) they're both guys, so it wasn't like he was actually cheating on his wife and b) they are just friends.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know what my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;subconscious&lt;/span&gt; is trying to tell me, but i don't think i like it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-1181151433971717066?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/1181151433971717066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/1181151433971717066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-think-im-going-to-be-ill.html' title='i think i&apos;m going to be ill'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-4406305464482851284</id><published>2010-01-09T09:03:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T09:08:18.541-07:00</updated><title type='text'>killer buffalo</title><content type='html'>last night i had many dreams. i was in the vampire diaries, i was at a high school reunion, i was at work--just pretty standard boring stuff. but then i dreamed that i was on an african safari with my friend ellen. all of a sudden our driver exclaimed that we were driving past a new species that he'd never seen before. it appeared to be a cross between a water buffalo and a cougar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;upon hearing the tour guide's voice, the cougalo jumped up and ran at our tram. i was on the edge and it approached me. everyone thought it was really cute. it started licking me, but then it started biting me. i began to scream, but no one believed that it was hurting me--they said it was just playing. then i looked into its red eyes and saw a look of pure hatred. i knew something bad was going to happen. it opened it's jaws wide and began to rip out my throat. thankfully, then i woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i told my mom about it, and she said that my sister had also had a killer buffalo dream last night. creepy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-4406305464482851284?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/4406305464482851284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/4406305464482851284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2010/01/killer-buffalo.html' title='killer buffalo'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-8952311565613495139</id><published>2010-01-04T18:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-04T18:46:18.147-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i don't want to talk about it</title><content type='html'>i had a nightmare so realistic last night, that jarred me so much, i don't even want to record it. i'm sure i won't ever forget it, though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-8952311565613495139?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/8952311565613495139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/8952311565613495139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-dont-want-to-talk-about-it.html' title='i don&apos;t want to talk about it'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-9105827946292747639</id><published>2009-12-31T08:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T08:39:56.096-07:00</updated><title type='text'>traumatizing</title><content type='html'>i dreamed last night that i had a very cute son.&amp;nbsp; he was about four years old, had blond hair, huge green eyes, and was just all-over adorable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we belonged to some bizarre religion where we each took a spoonful of sodium bicarbonate (baking soda)&amp;nbsp;every day.&amp;nbsp; he was allergic to it, though, so he was exempt. also, our religion required us to subdue all emotions (i was not a very good member of this cult-like church...my passionate nature couldn't be bottled).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one day some ignorant member of our sect tried to feed my son his daily dose of sodium bicarbonate. knowing he was allergic, he became very upset and started to run away.&amp;nbsp; i saw him running by and began to chase him to try and catch up.&amp;nbsp; he ran up the fire escape of a quite tall building and i had him cornered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he was really upset, and when i went to try and hug him, he jerked away.&amp;nbsp; only he moved back too far and fell over the railing. i'm not really sure how it happened, but he went so far during his fall that he ended up across the street, crashing through the glass doors of a kohl's. sometimes i wish i didn't dream in such vivid detail--there were buckets of blood everywhere and his body was broken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i tried to call 911, but the operator thought i was just playing a prank. i ran down and across the street, but i knew my son was dead.&amp;nbsp; some other (emotionless) members of my sect closed in around the body and pushed me to the side.&amp;nbsp; then i woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-9105827946292747639?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/9105827946292747639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/9105827946292747639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/12/traumatizing.html' title='traumatizing'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-1712942761441069529</id><published>2009-12-29T08:54:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T09:22:49.234-07:00</updated><title type='text'>first day nightmare and the winter road trip</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420691879229200738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Szoqi0pNGWI/AAAAAAAAATY/JhP96WAC5KA/s320/classroom.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;last night i dreamed it was the first day of my new job. only my classroom wasn't jam-packed with stuff like it is in reality, it was actually empty and i didn't even have enough desks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the students decided they hated me, because i wasn't their old teacher. they didn't like the way i did things, so they would destroy or undo everything that i put into place. if i hung a poster, they'd rip it down. they moved their desks back from the seating arrangement i'd set up, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;the kids themselves were little monsters. i had one who had cancer and wore a huge ariel wig to school. she thought that she didn't have to do any work because of her illness, and when i tried to get her to do anything she'd start sobbing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;this other hellion grabbed the wig of of the cancer girl's head and started dancing on top of all the desks making fun of her. meanwhile, an asian kid began to have a karate knife fight with the roly poly boy who was the leader of ripping down my posters. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i somehow managed to safely wrangle away the knife from the asian child, who started to bawl, when in walked his father. he immediately started screaming at me and accusing me of being racist. thankfully, i woke up at that point.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i don't know how i got back to sleep after that, but then i had another bizarre dream.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i was back living at santa barbara condos, where i spent most of my college time. all of my old friends were there, and we were organizing a winter road trip. i was in charge of getting the food, but when i tried several different grocery stores, they'd all run out of food except for one giant package of dums dums--the size of a garbage bag. i decided that this was the best i could do, packed it into the car, and we left for our road trip to midway. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;we snowshoed to the middle of nowhere to set up camp.   but when it was time for dinner and i busted out the lollipops, everyone was so mad at me they kicked me out and told me i had to snowshoe home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;i left disheartened.  i had walked for quite a while, when suddenly the ground gave out from under me.  i fell into an abandoned mine shaft.  i was too depressed to call for help, so i just decided to die there.  after about a half an hour, i heard a noise. i looked up and saw the two shining bald heads of the conley twins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420691885473909810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SzoqjL6DzDI/AAAAAAAAATg/pBS61P3Cup4/s320/conley+twins.jpg" border="0" /&gt;they had borrowed snowmobiles and come looking for me.  they were pulling me out of the cave and then i woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-1712942761441069529?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/1712942761441069529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/1712942761441069529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/12/first-day-nightmare-and-winter-road.html' title='first day nightmare and the winter road trip'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Szoqi0pNGWI/AAAAAAAAATY/JhP96WAC5KA/s72-c/classroom.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-5860748311437738961</id><published>2009-12-27T09:25:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-31T08:28:47.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>catch up</title><content type='html'>here are the most interesting dreams that i've had as of late:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;i was in sunday school, and the berries and cream lad was sitting next to me. by the end of the lesson, he was practically sitting on my lap and stroking my hair with all his appendages wrapped around me. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;i was in an animation in the desert. all i wanted was a swimming pool, a lake, an ocean--anything, but the withholding animator refused to draw me even a glass of water.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;angelica houston was my very mean mother.&amp;nbsp; i don't remember what i did, but my punishment was to sit on top of the roof (i'm terrified of heights) of the house for three hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;i walked into church and the bishop handed me a file folder full of colored notecards. on each notecard was written one of my sins. walking down the pew, i tripped and my sins flew all over for everyone to pick up, read, and laugh at me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;steve martin was my father, and he bought me the cutest studio apartment for christmas--right by runyon canyon in l.a.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;i was in the waterworld show at universal studios. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-5860748311437738961?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/5860748311437738961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/5860748311437738961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/12/catch-up.html' title='catch up'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-3244304545764086919</id><published>2009-12-14T17:52:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-14T17:58:01.426-07:00</updated><title type='text'>jail time with g-ma</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SybfCfXTUbI/AAAAAAAAATQ/sYLydnRatos/s1600-h/H_H_Holmes.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415260835831566770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 186px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 254px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SybfCfXTUbI/AAAAAAAAATQ/sYLydnRatos/s320/H_H_Holmes.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;last night i dreamed that i was married to an extremely abusive h.h. holmes look-alike. one day we were driving in the middle of nowhere in a hideous jalopy of a van. he was drunk and asleep, but i went over a bump and woke him up. he proceeded to ruthlessly beat me for ruining his nap, but i managed to grab his hunting knife from the backseat and stab him, then open the passenger door and shove him out. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;just as i was pushing him from the car, a cop drove the other way and saw my crime. i was arrested. my disgusting husband got to go free, and i had to serve a life sentence--in a women's reform prison in which my grandmother was the warden. horrifying.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-3244304545764086919?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/3244304545764086919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/3244304545764086919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/12/jail-time-with-g-ma.html' title='jail time with g-ma'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SybfCfXTUbI/AAAAAAAAATQ/sYLydnRatos/s72-c/H_H_Holmes.gif' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-5885411065717997550</id><published>2009-12-11T07:07:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-11T07:11:02.712-07:00</updated><title type='text'>aerosmith</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SyJSqS6BbfI/AAAAAAAAATI/sfqoKi0Ocw4/s1600-h/Aerosmith_Steve_TylerWEB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413980588635942386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SyJSqS6BbfI/AAAAAAAAATI/sfqoKi0Ocw4/s320/Aerosmith_Steve_TylerWEB.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i dreamed last night that steven tyler asked me to stand in for him at a las vegas concert so he could go play the slots. i was a little worried at first, but before long i managed to have the crowd fooled and wooed with my rousing rendition of &lt;em&gt;dude looks like a lady&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-5885411065717997550?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/5885411065717997550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/5885411065717997550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/12/aerosmith.html' title='aerosmith'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SyJSqS6BbfI/AAAAAAAAATI/sfqoKi0Ocw4/s72-c/Aerosmith_Steve_TylerWEB.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-3683302144023883284</id><published>2009-12-07T12:58:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-07T13:06:39.562-07:00</updated><title type='text'>cartoons and midgets</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sx1eriVupUI/AAAAAAAAAS4/jAWTukK9C4k/s1600-h/simpsons.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412586429214532930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sx1eriVupUI/AAAAAAAAAS4/jAWTukK9C4k/s320/simpsons.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i loved this dream (until i got kinky with bart, that is). my friend abbey (pictured below) and i were magically transformed into cartoon land. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412586904741197362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sx1fHN0HtjI/AAAAAAAAATA/AyR5TDL9vW4/s320/n515855184_1938923_157.jpg" border="0" /&gt;we lived with the simpsons.  it was fantastic until bart tried to get jiggy with me.  thankfully i woke up before anything too traumatic happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412586418489298898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 204px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sx1eq6Yoj9I/AAAAAAAAASo/NbPStCalRJ0/s320/jcp.jpg" border="0" /&gt;i do not even know where this second dream came from.  i was on a date with a guy that i liked and we were in the home section of j.c. penney.  i was super confused, because he kept trying to ditch me, but then i caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror and realized that i was a midget.  i decided that it was not acceptable for him to behave this way, and i began to chase him all over the store.  finally he found the men's room and locked himself in.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;then i woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-3683302144023883284?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/3683302144023883284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/3683302144023883284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/12/cartoons-and-midgets.html' title='cartoons and midgets'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sx1eriVupUI/AAAAAAAAAS4/jAWTukK9C4k/s72-c/simpsons.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-6511065508216858350</id><published>2009-11-28T09:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T09:34:50.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>haunted by samuel clemens</title><content type='html'>in all my dreams last night, i was doing normal things---cooking dinner, copying things at work, watching &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;tv&lt;/span&gt;, etc---when suddenly mark twain would just run past.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-6511065508216858350?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/6511065508216858350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/6511065508216858350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/haunted-by-samuel-clemens.html' title='haunted by samuel clemens'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-8274805988859547608</id><published>2009-11-22T20:19:00.003-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T20:23:41.951-07:00</updated><title type='text'>dahmer+auschwitz=can you think of anything more horrifying?</title><content type='html'>after a riveting discussion about serial killers the other night (which i knew undoubtedly would give me nightmares), i had a horrific dream that i was in a concentration camp run by jeffrey dahmer.  i was going to put a picture of him with this post, but i couldn't bear the thought of having his image on my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-8274805988859547608?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/8274805988859547608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/8274805988859547608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/dahmerauschwitzcan-you-think-of.html' title='dahmer+auschwitz=can you think of anything more horrifying?'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-2097320600961559265</id><published>2009-11-14T16:20:00.005-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-14T16:37:33.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>weird</title><content type='html'>i have not been sleeping very much or well lately. when i have slept, my dreams have been bizarre little snippets that i'm stuck in until i wake up, instead of dynamic stories like usual. here are a few that i remember most vividly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i suddenly find myself in a vat of shark fetuses. luckily, there is a tree growing out of the middle of the tank, so i manage to climb up out of the muck. the odd thing is that i don't recall ever seeing a shark fetus before, but when i looked up this picture, it was exactly like the ones in my dream.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404104347609990514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sv88RaBwBXI/AAAAAAAAASI/-MXtVlEdyYI/s320/alopias-vulpinus-embryo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;eight friends and i decide to buy up burial plots arranged in a square. then as each of us die, we see if we can get tic-tac-toe, three in a row.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404105460924264242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sv89SNcjrzI/AAAAAAAAASQ/2h_Vei40zpw/s320/Jogo_da_velha_-_tic_tac_toe.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm at a consignment shop and find some things that i desperately love and want to purchase. however, when i go to the register, i am informed that i have to trade them for my eggs, because the shop owner wants to freeze them in case of the 2012 apocalypse. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404106875913839394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 221px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 189px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sv8-kksXIyI/AAAAAAAAASY/ktZDXoa8O-k/s320/_file_makingdata_files_20050324_ovum_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-2097320600961559265?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/2097320600961559265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/2097320600961559265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/weird.html' title='weird'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sv88RaBwBXI/AAAAAAAAASI/-MXtVlEdyYI/s72-c/alopias-vulpinus-embryo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-2770830494048089909</id><published>2009-11-13T15:22:00.006-07:00</published><updated>2009-11-13T15:34:19.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>danny boy and christina's world</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sv3dyi9mhrI/AAAAAAAAARg/s9Pf1wyaENI/s1600-h/Christinasworld.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403718988362843826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sv3dyi9mhrI/AAAAAAAAARg/s9Pf1wyaENI/s400/Christinasworld.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; i was christina and i was stuck in this painting. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;danny boy was playing over and over and over and over and over and over&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403719264136865522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 248px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sv3eCmTQJvI/AAAAAAAAARo/q_lTLdGjhIs/s320/danny+boy.jpg" border="0" /&gt; i couldn't go anywhere, because i was crippled. i thought i was going to go mad, but&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;then i woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-2770830494048089909?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/2770830494048089909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/2770830494048089909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/11/danny-boy-and-christinas-world.html' title='danny boy and christina&apos;s world'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sv3dyi9mhrI/AAAAAAAAARg/s9Pf1wyaENI/s72-c/Christinasworld.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-2814937897682837779</id><published>2009-10-22T22:46:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T22:53:48.646-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i'm a woman in a predicament</title><content type='html'>&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395652616534573330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 316px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SuE1d6PzQRI/AAAAAAAAAQo/vt7D6wMVwDc/s320/damsel_in_distress3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;lately, i've been having rather feverish (probably swine-flu-induced) dreams in which i am some sort of semi-helpless female.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in one, i was forced to be a mail-order bride. the woman who was collecting girls to ship off was looking only for non-caucasians, but i couldn't seem to convince her that i am not mexican. she'd kidnapped me from disneyland (why all the disneyland dreams lately?) and was holding me hostage at a hotel in anaheim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395652612686226658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 250px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 209px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SuE1dr6SJOI/AAAAAAAAAQg/-WU1G4RPPkY/s320/bride.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in another, i wake up (just in the dream, which is in black-and-white) and find that i can't move, speak, or even open my eyes for more than a few seconds (that part of the dream has actually been recurring since i can remember). meanwhile, everyone is fleeing the country because of some sort of epidemic, and they forget me.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395653202388398802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 195px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SuE2AAuPMtI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/gJtmMA3n1TA/s320/asleep.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the most recent, i was hester prynne and dimmesdale was one of my close friends from real life. he was acting quite the villain, and no one would believe that he'd fathered my child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395652607181032274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 206px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SuE1dXZvi1I/AAAAAAAAAQY/LvRsfDYD6js/s320/scarltra.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;in each of these, i was just about at my breaking point, but &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-2814937897682837779?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/2814937897682837779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/2814937897682837779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/10/im-woman-in-predicament.html' title='i&apos;m a woman in a predicament'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SuE1d6PzQRI/AAAAAAAAAQo/vt7D6wMVwDc/s72-c/damsel_in_distress3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-9076853132269948053</id><published>2009-10-18T09:38:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T09:48:26.632-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i marry a large tongan man and then hide in the basement</title><content type='html'>i'm not sure why i'd agreed to do this in the first place, but for some reason i thought it'd be awesome to marry this HUGE tongan guy that i'd known for about a week.  he was about forty, about 6'4", probably weighed 400 pounds, and was actually quite nice (when he wanted to be). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we got married in my parents' backyard.  he wore a blue and gold dress and i wore a navy pants suit.  afterwards we had a huge party where he danced the haka.  while he was thus occupied, i realized that maybe this wasn't such a good idea.  i tried to run away, but he saw me and chased me down and said we needed to consummate our marriage.  i punched him the nose and hid in the basement.  i called 911 and tried to explain my situation, but the dispatcher told me that i had made a decision and i had to follow through with it, sorry.  my husband was coming down the basement stairs to get me, and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-9076853132269948053?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/9076853132269948053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/9076853132269948053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/10/i-marry-large-tongan-man-and-then-hide.html' title='i marry a large tongan man and then hide in the basement'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-4326069342741190677</id><published>2009-10-18T09:15:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T09:38:19.261-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the haunted house at disneyland is really haunted</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;this dream happened one night after i watched &lt;em&gt;house on haunted hill&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393963078095024818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 208px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AwiM93M-BIw/Sts011FtMrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qtrqkwybwm0/s320/House_on_Haunted_Hill.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;clark and i were at disneyland at halloween time.  he wanted to go to the haunted house, because he heard they'd done something extra special with it this year.  once we got inside, i knew something was amiss--the usual gimmicks weren't there; instead it was far more creepy and the ghosts walking around looked real.   &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;at some point, we got separated.  i got really scared and realized that there was no one else (at least no one alive, that is) anymore in the house with us.  a bearded ghost that looked like saddam hussein started chasing me around.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;as i was running from saddam hussein, i tripped over something.  i realized it was a detached human arm.  i got up and kept going.  i turned a corner and managed to lose the ghost for a minute, so i ducked into a closet.  when i turned on the light, on the shelf right next to my face was clark's severed head.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;then i woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-4326069342741190677?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/4326069342741190677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/4326069342741190677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/10/haunted-house-at-disneyland-is-really.html' title='the haunted house at disneyland is really haunted'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AwiM93M-BIw/Sts011FtMrI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qtrqkwybwm0/s72-c/House_on_Haunted_Hill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-208500527441374909</id><published>2009-10-10T15:57:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-10T16:04:00.033-06:00</updated><title type='text'>lucid dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/StEEm6sAQ7I/AAAAAAAAAOw/9g6Bxlpkdmg/s1600-h/gq-chris-pine%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391095295574557618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 197px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/StEEm6sAQ7I/AAAAAAAAAOw/9g6Bxlpkdmg/s320/gq-chris-pine%5B2%5D.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i have lucid dreams sometimes. last night i had one about &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;chris&lt;/span&gt; pine. it was fantastic. maybe i should start practicing so i can choose what i dream about more often.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.howstuffworks.com/lucid-dreaming.htm"&gt;http://www.howstuffworks.com/lucid-dreaming.htm&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-208500527441374909?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/208500527441374909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/208500527441374909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/10/lucid-dreams.html' title='lucid dreams'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/StEEm6sAQ7I/AAAAAAAAAOw/9g6Bxlpkdmg/s72-c/gq-chris-pine%5B2%5D.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-143492826090416595</id><published>2009-10-02T10:36:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-02T10:54:16.111-06:00</updated><title type='text'>three dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;the boost mobile commercial nightmare&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i only saw this commercial once, but it gave me a nightmare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="340" width="560"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RGObGID6Cr4&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0&amp;amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;amp;color2=0xcd311b"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RGObGID6Cr4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0&amp;color1=0x5d1719&amp;color2=0xcd311b" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i had a world-record winning pet pig (that didn't talk). the two talking pigs from the commercial decided that they wanted to eat him, and they chased us all over creation. i already loathe things with talking animals, so this was super traumatizing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;general conference weirdness&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for some reason, instead of the general authorities speaking at conference, people that i went to elementary school with gave the talks.  also, there were a bunch of concession stands in the conference center (even a bar), and vendors walked up and down the aisles selling cotton candy and such.  i bought myself a churro, and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;i kiss a gay man&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this one was especially disturbing.  first i was myself making out with a shirtless gay guy, and then i was a male version of me kissing the same man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-143492826090416595?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/143492826090416595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/143492826090416595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/10/boost-mobile-commercial-nightmare.html' title='three dreams'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-9161229920396895720</id><published>2009-09-27T19:33:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T19:49:57.997-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the recurring organ nightmare</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SsATKsftOiI/AAAAAAAAAOo/ye3P-fBnt_U/s1600-h/organ.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386326228798880290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SsATKsftOiI/AAAAAAAAAOo/ye3P-fBnt_U/s400/organ.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; at least once a week, every week since i was called to play the organ in church, i have some sort of nightmare about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;last night i dreamed i was playing the sacrament hymn naked, and the bishop had to come whisper into my ear that i was inappropriately dressed for church.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;about a month ago, i opened the organ lid to play the prelude and found blood smears all over the keys (someone must have had a bloody nose or something). this prompted a nightmare in which the organ was cursed, and everyone who played it met a gruesome end. i was no exception and ended up getting impaled by a limb from the large tree outside the church that was ripped off by the wind during a storm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've noticed that every one of the organ dreams so far has had a commonality: each time i made a terrible fool of myself and didn't really know how to play--i just mashed random keys in hopes that it would sound like music. i was usually somewhere in the middle of this&lt;br /&gt;embarrassment, and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-9161229920396895720?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/9161229920396895720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/9161229920396895720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/recurring-organ-nightmare.html' title='the recurring organ nightmare'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SsATKsftOiI/AAAAAAAAAOo/ye3P-fBnt_U/s72-c/organ.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-7958904138884155474</id><published>2009-09-26T15:49:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T17:35:31.456-06:00</updated><title type='text'>kathryn, lauren, and clark run a massive drug cartel</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sr6S08lvnKI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/KHuSAkPJ88o/s1600-h/k,c,l.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385903642696981666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 303px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sr6S08lvnKI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/KHuSAkPJ88o/s400/k,c,l.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i don't remember all the gory deets of this one...but i remember enough to be satisfied.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i wasn't in this dream at all--it was like watching tv. kathryn, clark, and lauren deduced a brilliant plan to start a large drug trafficking business out of d.c. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;to make things less conspicuous, the three drug lords decided to space their respective relocations back east. kathryn, who was the mastermind behind the operation, moved to d.c. to "find a job." six months or so later, lauren left for her "mission" to washington, where she had conveniently been called. to negate all cause for suspicion, clark hung back for almost another year after lauren left, moving to philadelphia--close enough to the action to take part, but far enough away to seem benign. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i don't remember what exactly went on, but lauren decided a great way to move their drugs would be to create a &lt;a href="http://www.mrscavanaughs.com/"&gt;mrs. cavanaugh's&lt;/a&gt;-esque front, hiding their various goods inside of bon-bons and cherry cordials, and shipping them to places across the country.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;clark expanded to more worldwide clients by cutting holes in the centers of used books and hiding the drugs inside. he then set up an account on half.com as a seller. it was a brilliant operation, the three criminals were raking in millions, and &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;then i woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-7958904138884155474?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/7958904138884155474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/7958904138884155474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/kathryn-lauren-and-clark-run-massive.html' title='kathryn, lauren, and clark run a massive drug cartel'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sr6S08lvnKI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/KHuSAkPJ88o/s72-c/k,c,l.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-8168985689545728501</id><published>2009-09-23T11:11:00.012-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T16:19:26.843-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i give a speech on campus defending kanye west</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpdTx13TgI/AAAAAAAAAOI/t7oszx6pfjs/s1600-h/scared+kanye.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384718898853006850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 154px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpdTx13TgI/AAAAAAAAAOI/t7oszx6pfjs/s200/scared+kanye.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpX3tIvygI/AAAAAAAAANo/BKMpBJHCHcI/s1600-h/cindy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384712918995552770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 192px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 191px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpX3tIvygI/AAAAAAAAANo/BKMpBJHCHcI/s200/cindy.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;i was walking on weber campus, when this girl (cindy ford--i &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpXurvHaBI/AAAAAAAAANg/wjNZKDcpRPc/s1600-h/cindy.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;travelled to nashville with her once through byu) stopped me. there was a huge crowd of riotous people surrounding a platform. she handed me a microphone and told me that i needed to defend kanye or they were going to lynch him. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpY1VXmuMI/AAAAAAAAANw/ZedTeXOSv6I/s1600-h/taylor-swift-white-horse-vid.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384713977767311554" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 164px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 159px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpY1VXmuMI/AAAAAAAAANw/ZedTeXOSv6I/s200/taylor-swift-white-horse-vid.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i climbed up on the platform (which for some reason, was now located in the &lt;a href="http://www.marilyncarolyn.com/oldzoo1.htm"&gt;old l.a. zoo&lt;/a&gt; ), glanced over my shoulder and saw taylor swift crying and acting very wounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i tried to open my mouth to begin my speech, but a harajuku girl and her very large gay friend interrupted me, yelling that i was &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpZZwYwGtI/AAAAAAAAAN4/qU1j3yGSgiE/s1600-h/Harajuku_Girl_5_by_BellKatie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384714603495168722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpZZwYwGtI/AAAAAAAAAN4/qU1j3yGSgiE/s200/Harajuku_Girl_5_by_BellKatie.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;just a dumb mormon and i would never do a good enough job of defending their boy, kanye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cindy told them to shut it, giving them a look of death, and i was able to begin my speech. i started out a little weak, pleading with the lynching party not to end the life of someone who brought us the likes of masterpieces such as"gold digger." they seemed to calm a little at this (taylor was still being dramatic, though).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i started to gain strength, and the crowd began to love me, and by my closing line of "his famous 'imma let you finish' incident was simply kanye's expression of self...and that is what this fine country is founded on...freedom of speech, freedom of expression, freedom to be americans!!!!!!!!!!!" (i actually recall that is what i said word-for-word), they were going wild. taylor swift was slinking&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpbfltiHmI/AAAAAAAAAOA/c4Q5-axy8MM/s1600-h/fat+man+running.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384716902732013154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 144px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpbfltiHmI/AAAAAAAAAOA/c4Q5-axy8MM/s200/fat+man+running.bmp" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; away, defeated, to her limo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i stepped off the podium, when the harajuku girl's fat friend grabbed me and said that he was taking me to get married whether i like it or not. my face was right in his armpit, and i have never smelled anything worse in real life or in dreams. i managed to break free and run. suddenly, i was running through &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Runyon_Canyon_Park"&gt;runyon canyon&lt;/a&gt;, up a huge hill, and he was chasing me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-8168985689545728501?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/8168985689545728501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/8168985689545728501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-give-speech-on-campus-defending-kanye.html' title='i give a speech on campus defending kanye west'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SrpdTx13TgI/AAAAAAAAAOI/t7oszx6pfjs/s72-c/scared+kanye.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-1509269945949413759</id><published>2009-09-21T11:25:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T11:41:46.085-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i get to be on discovery health channel</title><content type='html'>this one happened a couple weeks ago. clearly it stemmed from watching too much &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://health.discovery.com/tv/i-didnt-know-i-was-pregnant/about.html"&gt;i didn't know i was pregnant&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt; on discovery health.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i was in the basement of the &lt;a href="http://www.lds.org/placestovisit/location/0,10634,1872-1-1-1,00.html"&gt;joseph smith memorial building&lt;/a&gt; in salt lake when i started to feel really sick (i thought it was the decor--green marble everywhere--that was causing it). i went into the bathroom, and i guess i passed out, because i woke up in a hospital. two nurses brought in babies (a boy and a girl) and told me i'd just given birth to twins. i insisted this was impossible, because i wasn't even seeing anyone, let alone sleeping with someone. they assured me the kids were mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i decided to hire a private detective to find out who had knocked me up. he determined that it was one of my good friends, although we never found out how he did it. i attracted a lot of national attention, and discovery health asked if they could feature my unique story on &lt;em&gt;i didn't know i was pregnant&lt;/em&gt;. we were filming the bathroom scene in the j.s. memorial building,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383975305635488962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sre5A9Pg5MI/AAAAAAAAANA/4zL4C-KMRrY/s320/JSMB_foyer.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-1509269945949413759?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/1509269945949413759'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/1509269945949413759'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-get-to-be-on-discovery-health-channel.html' title='i get to be on discovery health channel'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sre5A9Pg5MI/AAAAAAAAANA/4zL4C-KMRrY/s72-c/JSMB_foyer.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-2593960384518722257</id><published>2009-09-21T11:10:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T11:39:43.189-06:00</updated><title type='text'>i tour l.a. with the world's ugliest person, then meet my bff's real brothers</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;i started out on a boat somewhere, then ended up in a museum in los angeles with someone who is probably the ugliest person on earth. i've now figured out that the museum was the &lt;a href="http://www.moca.org/"&gt;moca&lt;/a&gt;, because when i went outside, i could see the &lt;a href="http://www.laphil.com/"&gt;disney concert hall&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383976184086360002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sre50Fuhb8I/AAAAAAAAANI/P2HPLZZvPyQ/s320/Disney_Concert_Hall_by_Carol_Highsmith.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i don't know what happened to my unattractive friend, but all of a sudden i was talking to a homeless man (he actually was just dressed like one; he had rather fine features--dark hair and brooding eyes). he suddenly used my name and told me that he knew all about me and that he was about to disclose some information that i was never to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;apparently, he and his brother were the real family of my friend, clark. they'd founded the drexel law school and provided clark with a scholarship to go there. they'd bought him a house, too, but he couldn't have it until he settled down. they told me that clark had been kidnapped at birth. things were starting to get juicy (and of course, i had every intention of telling clark all about his two real brothers), but&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-2593960384518722257?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/2593960384518722257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/2593960384518722257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/i-tour-la-with-worlds-ugliest-person.html' title='i tour l.a. with the world&apos;s ugliest person, then meet my bff&apos;s real brothers'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/Sre50Fuhb8I/AAAAAAAAANI/P2HPLZZvPyQ/s72-c/Disney_Concert_Hall_by_Carol_Highsmith.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4814943660307943523.post-4840683890276486760</id><published>2009-09-21T10:57:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2009-09-21T11:09:39.401-06:00</updated><title type='text'>the dream where i am dead, but not really</title><content type='html'>variations of this dream have been recurring for me since i can remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i die, but i manage to not "cross over" as they seem to be so fond of calling it on all the ghost shows now days. usually, i have an accomplice who can still see and talk to me, and i always try to find my mother to bring me back (one time she tried to buy me back from god with coupons).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in the latest version of this dream, i died in a car accident. the local librarian found me, and in doing so, became the person who could see my ghost. he went with me to my mom, who determined that there was nothing that she could do about my little problem (of being dead). she decided that i should just sort of hang out in the land of the living like i was, and told me i'd find a way to be happy somehow. the librarian and i became friends, and he found the driver of the hit-and-run that had caused my death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i woke up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4814943660307943523-4840683890276486760?l=emilylisadreams.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/4840683890276486760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4814943660307943523/posts/default/4840683890276486760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilylisadreams.blogspot.com/2009/09/dream-where-i-am-dead-but-not-really.html' title='the dream where i am dead, but not really'/><author><name>Emily</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06758829566968094249</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='23' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_oGrvlzBB8g0/SXpEuBLvE7I/AAAAAAAAAL0/xMVHnM6xt4w/S220/me.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>
