Involved dreams last night of a dream-Portland: where first, I and a bunch of people had trouble crossing a freeway-like version of the SE Foster-Powell intersection with unpredictable traffic. I mean unpredictable in two ways: you weren't sure when vehicles would come roaring through, and you weren't sure what would come through. A couple of pink horses came through, running as fast as a race car. We made it across, but it was harrowing.

Less harrowing but kind of disturbing (or off-putting) was a later place I visited: I dreamed of entering a large, old-fashioned, multi-level restaurant I've dreamt of before — a complete fabrication of a place, not based on any real restaurant — except this time the restaurant, busy enough before, was packed to the gills with people. But instead of being customers, they were dressed up and acting, Westworld environment-style, but also doing it badly. I could hear people literally saying gibberish. Every cosplayer I know in real life, not to mention the actors I know, would do this much better. So the place tried to give off a huge 19th-century Western saloon, an even-larger-than-Erickson's-Saloon saloon, but didn't do it convincingly. Especially not with the upper room with the arcade games, one of them a mysterious Polybius-style game, off in a quiet corner I found.

Yeah, my dreams can be involved.