I was the last of our little group to leave and that before the band's last set at about a quarter to 1:00 a.m.
I came home and slept fitfully, caught between the alcohol-induced fatigue and my normal wakefulness at that time. For this, I credit the remembrance of these dreams:
Some of the group and I as not-particularly-desperate survivors of a natural disaster. Pooling our resources in that spontaneous, "We'll put on a show!" way, only ending up with a party/con. I most remember the contrast between the grim nature of circumstance and the jovial way in which we approached surviving.
A similar mix of folks walking through a wilderness. It's dark and we aren't having as great a time. There is still the occasional wisecrack, but there's also an edge of fear. We end up separated, but can still oddly hear each other. Either that, or some of us died off and kept drifting in to the survivors as ghosts. Wisecracking ghosts.
There was more, but the have faded in the morning light. Perhaps I'll dream some more today.