Strange Dream/Nightmare
I remember I was the flowergirl for a lady I knew sorta well--one of those ladies from the Mary Kay (gag) meeting last night. I was supposed to be helping with something--we had the practice runthrough, or was it the real wedding? I'm walking out of the church with either the bride to be or another one of those ladies--down steps, up steps, the church looked like an old old college. She was talking about a job that I would be good at--something to do with construction. And she said that Richland College had the best program for it. What good luck! I was already going to Richland.
I was driving away in my car (I was either the groom now or some guy friend of the groom), and this gold car was tailing me through a wooden neighborhood. At the last minute (and I can see this from far away, as if watching it on TV), I turn my car around and drive back the way I came, but I keep narrowly missing everyone in the right lane driving the opposite way of me.

I'm the flower girl again, following one of the bride's friends--but she keeps shifting between being the bride and being her friend. I ask her about the construction job--she shifts to her friend, then back to bride. "Oh honey, I meant that for my friend, not you." She turns into her friend again, talking about how wonderful the job will be. We're on the second level of the college church, walking past a Starbucks built into it.

Next thing I know I'm the guy again, and some secret passage in the college has led me to the old candy shop I used to work at (???). And the crotchy but wonderful grandfather owner is talking to me about someone committing a murder. We're in a science lab room now, trying to figure out this scientific equation written on a table that has to do with couches. Couches? Who will kill for a couch? And as he draws the letter C into a 15 section box (though when I look at it, it looks like a lazy eye), the murderer--who happens to have that lazy eye that the owner drew--shows up with a gun and points it at me. Turns out he wants to shoot me--for the couch or for not being dead?--got me.
I tell him I don't want to be shot, and pull a small black gun of my own out. I remember his was silver, with one of those loooooong muzzles (is that what the shooting part's called?). The owner convinces both of us to put our guns in his hands, though the other guy keeps trying to take his so he can shoot me.

The murderer gets ready to leave as the owner and I argue about the science room equation evidence. He says that the heavy table cover will keep it hidden--I'm convinced the writing will show through. (Why we don't just leave the cover off is beyond me).

The room's melting into the candy store--almost--when the murderer's back. Gun to my throat, about to pull the trigger. "You know, I really don't want to die!" I gripe, wanting this guy to get the message. I knew then that he was the guy chasing me in my car. The bride's next to me again, and I'm guessing she's my bride, since I'm still the groom. "Lorrie," I tell her, wanting to get all my secrets out before I die, "I hate your cats." I know there's fourteen of them, the science equation is shifting to show me that.

"But one of them's pregnant, and I like her. She's going to have kit--"
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
And I wake up to my alarm screaming. Which was good. I swear that guy was gonna shoot me.