Contraband cheese! Yes, that's almost certainly a true story. Welcome to California.

I had grape juice and cookies right before bed last night, leading to waking up around 0130 with a strange dream: running through the woods, with a couple of people (friends of a friend, apparently) coming after me with guns. Interesting trails we ran up the mountain, and for some reason we ran parallel until we caught up at a barn. One of them stood on the floor of the barn while I talked to him and climbed a ladder up the wall; suddenly I wondered where the other one went, and it turned out he was climbing up the other side of the ladder. I twisted the gun out of his hand and shot him; the other guy was upset that I'd shot his friend, and eventually I shot him too. (Why didn't he shoot me while I was on the ladder and he was on the floor? Hey, it's a dream.)

Notably missing from this dream: fear paralysis, and anxiety. Yes, people are trying to kill me; yes, I could die; no, that's not a helpful thing to dwell on. Someone trying to kill me is my basic criterion for shooting them (in real life, I not only don't hurt people, I tend to avoid killing bugs); I remember thinking that my friend was going to be upset I'd shot his friends.

I did the classroom portion of the Motorcycle Safety Foundation class tonight. It moves pretty fast, and it's a ton of information to absorb, but the written test is pretty easy. I'm assuming it gets more intuitive once I actually try riding: otherwise I'll be needing all my ninja skills JUST TO SURVIVE.