I MET THAT ANDREW SLACK. I MET THAT DARREN CRISS. I MET THAT COMBINATION ANDREW SLACK AND DARREN CRISS.

Last night, I had a dream.* It was Thanksgiving at my grandparent's house, and into the warm, omnomtacular smelling air walked Darren Criss. You know, just normal things. The weirdest part about it was that none of us acted weirdly about it. He was just kind of there. Not out of place. Nobody special. He was just Darren.

I thought about it a little longer this morning, and then, in class, I realized this wasn't the first time I've had a dream that Darren's been in. I couldn't help but laugh about it, and got an angry glare from my logic professor, who was talking about truth tables or some other mundane as hell topic. In my next class, I got distracted and missed critiquing an entire 40 line soliloquy. What distracted me? The title of this blog came to me and it was magic and I died and I am dead and also a ghost writer.**

So anyway, the first dream:
I was at my old school, at an after school, super secret, illegal band practice in the gym. No idea why it was illegal, but it just was. Our director, Mr. Art Coleman, a scary loud man who you don't want to ignore, told us to cross the campus back to the bandroom. We crossed, worrying that we'd be caught by the small but terrifying campus security monitor, "Miss Ernestine", whose goal in life was to stop the band. She was kind of a dream-real-life Sue Sylvester.

Well, turns out she caught us. We all managed to get across the poorly laid out campus in seconds, and made it into the newly put in hallway maze that was full of hiding spaces. What can I say? I guess I'm an architect.*** Turns out she knows all of the hiding spaces, so we were sent home.

It was dark and my family was nowhere to be found, and I was too young (17?) to drive, so my teacher, who had somehow turned into Andrew Slack, gave me a ride home. On the way home, he decided he was hungry and insisted on buying use cheeseburgers. Thanks again, Andrew!

We got out of the car, food in hand, at a house that wasn't mine. I walk around the car to assist Slackman with the food, but he had turned into someone claiming to be my friend Nikki's grandfather. I was resistant at first, but I ended up entering the house with him to eat that burger.


Did I mention he was creepy looking?

We climbed the stairs up the side of the house, completely ignoring the front door. I'm really surprised my Spidey Senses weren't tingling to let me know how bad of an idea that was. I walked in, as he held the bulky door open for me, and was immediately flabbergasted to see the very same treble clef statue that Darren Criss posed with on the cover of his imaginary album. Turns out the creepy stairs leading up the side of the house went immediately back down inside to form a balcony over the coolest living room I'd ever seen.

I went to the bathroom to was my hands, because that is the biggest worry you should have when accepting food from creepy old men that you don't know. (Sorry, Nikki! He wasn't REALLY your grandpa. At least, I hope not.) When I returned, the old man was sitting at the bottom of the balcony. It was more like a stairs-cony. I don't remember anything besides the steps just stopping. It was kind of cool, actually.

I went down to sit next to the old man, looked at him, and he was Darren Criss. You know, I've just been bought food by the combination Art Coleman/Andrew Slack/Not Nikki's Grandpa/Darren Criss.**** AND I AM IN HIS HOUSE. So then, we talked about music for a minute or so and my alarm went off. It's a pity, I was having fun.

That's all for today, folks! See you tomorrow!



*I feel like I've already made this joke this month, so I'm not going to do it again.
**GEDDIT?!
***Have you guys all seen Inception? I really hope you have. Great, great, great film. Definitely worth checking out.
**** http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQ8ViYIeH04