Sometimes I have two or three separate dream-lives in one night, because after I wake up to scarf down some sugar-free coconut snacks and swig some iced tea, I restart the dream engine when I fall asleep again.

Last night the first dream had something to do with Philadelphia's beloved Southeastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority, aka SEPTA, which does a terrible job of transporting locals from one stop to the next. Each day I take the trolley to work, which sounds quaint, and even felt quaint the first few times, but is now simply frustrating.

In the dream I was waiting for the trolley, and I ran to the stop only to see it pulling away—into a murky pond. I waved my arms, and shouted. The female driver looked at me with disdain. She slowed the trolley-ship a little while I sang "On the good ship, trolley stop..." and I dove into the water.

Suddenly, I couldn't swim, and there were hulking brown jetty rocks in my way. I thought: "Doggy paddle," and pretended to be my ex-dog, Hannah Chihuahua, who was very skilled in that. (She would start paddling even if you just held her above an inch of water in the tub.) I finally made it to the trolley, sopping wet. The driver, who was wearing huge dark glasses, said nothing.

Oddly, roughly the same thing played out this morning, on my way to work.

More dream stuff later, as it's impossible to put all of it into one post.