I was on the roof of a hotel in New York with my friend Ryan Wugalter. We were looking at the stars and talking, when suddenly there was an intense meteor shower. When it was over, we climbed down a long yellow ladder with a rickety fold-out section called a “keith.”
At the bottom of the ladder, we met up with several other people, mostly our friends from university. We all walked down the wide, cushy hotel halls to a Japanese restaurant that made you a pay a cover charge that was different for "public" or "private" seating; we paid for the cheaper public seating, and it meant we sat with strangers, so we lost a fair bit of our party at this point. The food was rows of little nubbins like plasticine. When we left, I had trouble getting all my correct checked stuff: bag, sweater. I had my laptop case with a shirt and a bunch of books, I think. There was a Japanese bookstore. I told the worker in the store that I couldn’t read Japanese, although I thought the lettering was beautiful.
Next I was eating breakfast in a ground floor apartment in New York when first my mom, and then a stand-in for my mom, had a new boyfriend who was demonic. He was a professor, and he had long, white goat ears. They disappeared after I complimented him on them. I decided to pray, which filled the room with a golden light, and as I continued, it caused the demon professor to melt into a greasy puddle, which eventually disappeared. There were also two little kids there who were demonically afflicted, and I prayed for them, but it was only partly effective.
inoticed on the deck or terrace that my wife was tied up and being tortured by a gang of youths. I brutally beat a few of them trying to save her, picking them up by the legs and swinging them, smashing their heads into hard surfaces.