Get Outta My Dreams . . .

I've had a series of completely wacko dreams this week.

Dream number 1: I was at Princeton, but it was Hogwarts, and I was hanging out with the entire Harry Potter gang. They were either my age or I was their age, because it didn't seem nearly weird enough in the dream. It was not a sexy dream in the slightest.

This is Princeton's campus, and Hogwart's Castle

Dream number 2: This one is already fading, almost completely. It was something featuring one of the CSI type shows I watch. It also might have been House, because a friend of mine recently announced that I looked like Dr. House. This is both unsettling and hilarious. Perhaps my very obvious genetic ties to my family have been faked! Once again, however, I was part of a team., doing things Is this work anxiety?

This is me (in a stiff breeze, apparently?), and the man who is somehow my twin.

Dream number 3: I was wandering between a restaurant and a house in Atlanta, riding a very small motorcycle like the ones ridden by Shriners in parades. Several of my friends were there. The motorcycle could only be gunned by hand (but in a weird way--I don't know enough about motorcycles to make this make sense--it was like I had to adjust the seat on a car to make the bike go), and the handlebars were very close to the ground, so I kept on scraping my knuckles on the asphalt. There were a lot of car accidents and stuff, so I swerved a lot.

OK, so they're riding little cars, not little bikes. This looks like the street, though.

Maybe more like this.

Um, I don't know whether this is a cry for help or what. Any interpretations?