I remember some faint bits and pieces of a dream I had last night. There was supposed to be more of the story, but I only remember part of it. Apparently I didn't do something right or something; things weren't going right. And it was back to treating me like a kid. My mother was saying how she's going to start taking some of my stuff away -- not my equipment, but like kid stuff, like my dolls and stuff, like if I was a kid. And I remember hiding a few of my best ones deep within the junk pile of my closet. And then I took a big kind of thick base and I held it above her floor in her room where she had a whole bunch of stuff scattered around, and I said, "If you keep up this process, I'm going to break this vase in here and you're not going to have a vase and you're going to have a big bunch of glass to clean up." So after that she sort of abandoned the process and just sort of went back to sorting junk. And that's all I can remember.