I am at a college eatery with a young woman (seemingly) very attracted to me. The server brings over a wide round tray and sets it on top of my head. When he removes it, a large pile of french fries cover my hair. They do not want to simply fall off; with some annoyance I walk to the grill area and swish my head hard, expecting them to fly off my head into the food preparation area.
They don't. I touch them and find they've all but apparently solidified together in a mass in my hair. Extremely annoyed, I pull out what bits will come out, and toss them into the food preparation area, but the cooks (and the server) don't seem to mind or take notice. The girl, meanwhile, figures she should go to class. While she sympathizes with my predicament, she merely gives me a kiss goodbye and leaves me to it. I realize I am going to have to walk around with this lot on my head until I can shower it off. I take a bus to San Pedro to house and cat-sit for my friends, anticipating having to ask them to shower off these french fries on my head. On the bus is a girl I briefly mistake for the previous girl, which this one finds extremely amusing. The bus is close, but I find myself having gotten off a few stops too soon. I start walking, the geography seeming a bit off: the back streets are a bit labyrinthal. At one point I come to a yard with a rise in its lawn, and I note I have to climb down a jagged rock to get back to street level.
A tiny Yorkshire Terrier appears before my, barking at me, mostly for attention which it receives. On the street level is a slat-wooden bench, under which is another dog barking until I lean over to pet it.
The road bends to the left, which I know is the wrong direction, away from my destination about five blocks away now (according to the street signs), but I spot a small parking area at my right, at which is a doorway to the next street over towards the correct direction. Someone comes through and I have to run to catch the door before it closes. I then notice that somehow my Sherman Oaks friend's dog Dumbledore is with me, his red leash in my hand. I do not mind (despite IRL Dumble would be thrilled in a household of cats mostly in his insistence on killing them). We get through the door, meeting a large dog and its owner heading in the opposite direction. The man's dog is about a good third larger than Dumble, but is handsome and friendly, though Dumble uncharacteristically growls a bit at it.
"Maybe yours is another alpha-dog," I surmise, and the owner concurs, as his dog gazes at me longingly to be patted and to let me be kissed.