1) Some interesting people have walked into the coffee shop where I work. One of the frequent customers comes to us from a nearby institution for people with mental problems. Her name is Camille, in her mid 40s I guess, and after she's placed her order, she asks the person at the register (often myself) to write down several words for her, most of them psychological terms. I don't know what she does with the words, but we never refuse to do it for her. If we did, she would freak out. She freaks out even if we have too many questions or seem hesitant or do anything at all that she hasn't anticipated. She's a very nervous woman, and she rocks back and forth against the counter when she talks to us. She repeats herself often too. The first time I saw her, she freaked out over the music playing in the store. "Turn the music down! It's too loud! I can't concentrate with that music!"

Two interesting people walked in Thursday. One was a middle aged black man who was wearing a combat helmet, a Batman cape, a necklace with an ankh, and a dagger and some other things tucked inside a sash underneath his rib cage. He didn't say anything too weird, but the manner in which he approached me and looked at me was a little odd. He ordered a small coffee and sat outside with it while he wrote something in a notepad. The other guy I work with got a look at what he was writing, and he said it was just a bunch of scribbles. I asked the man where he works, and he just ignored me. Most likely another mental patient.

The other guy who walked in Thursday, probably homeless, rushed up to the counter handing me a dime and said, "Give me two nickels -- I need two nickels -- come on, I just need two nickels." "Can you wait until I--" "This is taking too long -- here's the dime -- I'll be back." So he came back 2 or 3 minutes later to get his two nickels, when I could have given it to him in 10 seconds.

Also, a middle-aged, heavy-set black man has started coming in recently -- the man's face looks just like a bloodhound's -- droopy cheeks and jowls, sad, baggy eyes. And if that's not amusing enough, if bloodhounds could talk, they'd talk just like this man. His voice is deep and cartoon-like. I love to hear him say, "Medium coffee."

2) I had a couple of interesting dreams last night. In one, I was sitting in a theater or auditorium, waiting for a movie or something to start, and I overheard two guys sitting behind me, talking and snickering. I couldn't make out everything they were saying and didn't even know exactly what they were talking about. But I had a strong intuitive feeling that they were making fun of me, so I turned around and threw strawberries at one guy's face. I have no idea what I was doing with strawberries in the first place. My victim was remarkably larger than myself and rather pissed. While he was wiping splattered strawberry from his eyes, I ran off to hide somewhere. I saw a security guard in the distance, so I slowed down to a brisk walk. I ended up meeting my victim again, and instead of charging after me or asking me to step outside, he shouted, "Don't ever do that again!" and sat back down.

The other dream involved me suddenly appearing in my old apartment in Baton Rouge. I didn't walk through a door or crawl through a window -- it was like I was just randomly teleported into the living room. It was a really nice feeling being there, very comfortable. And so real! I thought, "This must be a dream, because the laws of the universe won't permit something like this to happen in real life, but it's all so vivid!" There was so much clarity in everything I saw, heard, and touched. It was very exciting for me. All the lights were off. It was night time and raining outside. Someone else was obviously inhabiting it, but it didn't look dramatically different from when I stayed there, and I wasn't worried about being discovered. I got a big thrill from opening the refrigerator. Somehow, that confirmed it as being a real life experience for me, something about seeing the light inside the fridge when I opened it. Then, I woke up in an apartment where I live with the worst roommate I've had thus far, far away from that cozy little apartment I had in Baton Rouge. I didn't realize just how good I had it. Now, I'm in the abyss.