I was a drummer yet again in my dream, this time one of three in what I think was a hair metal band. Somehow I got to the drums from bass, when I was playing it for Linus (at least I think it was them, because I was practicing their basslines). But all I had was a snare and a hi-hat, and I was playing nasty like Buddy Rich. This is the first time I remembered color distinctly; there was a red (plastic-coated?) cymbal. I also remember getting a IM from my sister. I think even before all of this I was recording drums, part by part, for some song of mine. I can recall doing it over and over, making sure I got it right.

In the middle of the night I clearly thought to myself, "I better remember this dream." So I tried to.

Then there was another, where there was a vindictive son who had 15 minutes to show how awful his father was, who looked vaguely like Gary Busey. I can't remember why -- and there were a string of people who had to do the same -- but the son's proof was some sort of aerobics or really silly record LP from the 80's, with hideous cover graphics (I remember it being pink, perhaps along with green), and apparently his father appeared on one of the songs and in the LP's foldout. That got him pretty angry.

I might as well mention last night's dream (actually, the 24th's) for posterity: she was at the parade, white sweater with a rainbow stripe, when she hadn't been there. Like my wish manifested itself.