Kill Iraqi Killers... ?

Are these dreams just a bunch of jumbled nonsense or do they mean something? I was in this large, upstairs room. It was packed full of stuff, all kinds of household stuff, used, and somewhat organized. For instance, there were giant piles of dishes and silverware, including plastic utinsils, which were all separated, and clothes, and magazines, miscellaneous junk, all according to its type. It was as if a hoarder with OCD lived there. Well we needed to clear this space, and people from my old church were there helping, putting it into black plastic bags to be thrown away. I was somewhat in charge. I became upset because I thought a lot of it could be donated, including all these childrens clothes, such as boys sweaters. But I could tell it wasn't going to get donated because no one knew where to bring it. And it looked good getting the space cleared. The scratched and worn, wooden floor began to show. It was going to be the new work space. Then I called a cab and took at least one bag full of stuff downstairs to at least leave somewhere for people to pick through. Then me and Lora, my sister, were on bikes with the stuff, trying to find the intersection where the cab would be. But it was dark and there were threatening youths on the street, but they didn't bother us. We couldn't find the intersection at all. In another part of the dream, I was in my old church, in the doorway to the sanctuary. Across the hallway there were all these Iraqis in a room. I noticed they had written on the sanctuary doorway, "Kill Iraqi Killers," by which they meant to kill people who killed Iraqis, not Iraqis who killed others. It was written in red paint or blood. Then they came to the entrance, and I held the door open for them to enter the sanctuary, although I hoped no violence would ensue. It ended up being a peaceful protest.

Sorry... kinda boring. I wish they didn't block facebook at my work, although that was getting boring too. This leaves me no option but to work on my paper or to enter invoices and such. What about my "social" life? It suffers. It suffers especially since it seems that my one real friend is taking a break from me, once again. She sent me an amusingly borderline text on Monday saying that she can tell I don't love her, more or less, and didn't have a good time hanging out with her on Sunday, and she won't have me come over anymore. This is not the first time. I hope it doesn't last long, or escalate, because I need at least one real person in the world to hang out with. Michelle gets upset when this happens, but I take it in stride for the most part. So people are crazy, so what. What else? Nothing. Boring boring boring. I'm sorry. Although, why should I be sorry? No one writes in their blog for me! I have no role models. I am not entertained. Why should I do all the work?