Last night I had what I guess they would call a guilty taddle telling dream because it shows off what I know and it can't be hidden from me. And, okay, I dreamt that we were babysitting that girl Annie from the Barrett's house and she's kind of an immature kind of blah kind of person, and she had this program, you know, like they give out in the theaters, that kind of program, for this Brian Adams concert that I'm supposed to go to for Christmas. And I asked her if she could tell me what the date was that the performance was going to be, and she didn't really know how to count; she kept getting all mixed up. She kept telling me, "26, 25," and I kept telling her, "I think you mean 12/25." And she's like, "Oh no, it says here 26, 25." Wonder what that can mean? And she was opening it up, and for some reason it had all these stickers in it and her ticket, and I don't know what the stickers were for. They were like hearts and flowers and teddy bears. And I couldn't really read the date; it was too small. And then I went into the kitchen and there was this thing sitting on the counter, and I picked it up and I thought it was a piece of chocolate. And I took a little taste of it, and it was lipstick, and I was like, "Bleah!" And I've never really done that, so I don't know where that came from. And then I was coming out to ride the bike with my father, and I had this dress on that came to my mid thighs, and it was really cold, but I had this dress on. And I don't know why, and I was going to ride the bike in this dress. And that's all I can remember. I think I woke up after that, but I don't know.