I guess my first dream was that my family and I were back in Mexico. Keegan was there and I was subtly trying to get his attention. There was some sort of art auction happening, so I had my father sell this Dali painting that we had. I knew that Keegan lived on 43rd street in New York, so I tried to get my father to sell the painting to a gallery in midtown so that I would have an excuse to be around there. I think he did, but I can't remember. Then I was tanning on the edge a black infinity pool and Keegan was across the pool. I was trying to pretend I didn't know he was there, but it was pretty obvious that I did. I think I was then sitting next to him and I all of a sudden felt very chagrined, so I must have done something to embarrass myself. All of a sudden, there was some announcement throughout all Puerto Vallarta telling everyone to pack up his or her most prized possessions in a bag because a dangerous con man was coming through all the resorts and taking everyone's stuff. Only now all of a sudden, I didn't have to just zip up my suitcase, but rather we were at home and I had to pick only a few things that were that important to me. I think I threw in my iPhone and laptop, figuring that any burglar would only want those items rather than the more sentimental things. I think my father threw nothing in. When the burglar arrived, we all sat downstairs in the family room while he ransacked our house, picking out things he wanted to take. He took some of my mother's jewelry, my father's laptop, iPod, and wallet. I think at one point my father tried to say no and the burglar pulled out a gun and loaded it. He aimed it at my father and Martin and I both burst into tears, sobbing and screaming. I distinctly remember thinking "I won't have a father in a few minutes." I was crying so hard, but I never heard the gun shot. I realized that the burglar was just using it to instill fear in all of us. I offered to take him up to my room and let him go through all my CDs in order to distract him from my father. We went upstairs and the burglar demanded an Akon CD. I frantically rummaged through everything and never found the Akon CD. The burglar ran back downstairs and started lighting all our photo albums on fire. It was then that I realized that my laptop and iPhone were completely replaceable, but those photos were not. Then I was back in Art History 101 and hadn't studied for my final exam. I think I thought I had, but in reality I had never made flashcards or reviewed for the essays. I went into the exam and opened my blue book. The slides flashed on the screen, and I was only able to identify 4 of the 10. I reassured myself that I could make the points up on the essays, but then I realized I didn't know anything about the objects. To make matters worse, I was writing with a gigantic indelible marker, which was clumsy and awkward to hold. I could only fit a few letters in per page of my blue book. Finally, Professor Durkin came over and asked how I was doing. I told him truthfully that I was doing horrible and had not prepared for some reason and also that I had this horrible marker to write with. He helped me talk out some of the themes in "Hanging Lantern," a performance piece that I completely made up in my head. I wrote out "seeking to but failing to find one's own voice" on my leg in pencil. I guess he had given me a pencil to replace the gigantic marker and rather than ruin another blue book, I decided to write my answers all over my skin. Then I woke up.