There I was in deep space talking to this god with stuff wrapped up in white cords, or ropes of twisted linen; a civilization’s-worth of stuff he had, buildings and other structures, rocking chairs, you name it, pulling it all along and we were chatting.

Frustrating in a way – finally encounter a god and talk and then forget what you talked about. We talked for a long while about interesting things, I’m sure. I needed to use the restroom and so I walked over to the restroom, through this lobby-type area and along this brown carpeting towards this corridor (in a large convention hotel I visit often in my sleep); just before the corridor was this glass door. Above the door was a sign that read “AUTHOR” and inside sat Brendan. I planned to go in and talk to him after taking a whiz, cause cool, B. is The Author! I had no idea!

I had no problem finding the restroom, this long hotel-type restroom with a lot of clean, white porcelain urinals lined up under bright lights, including the long multi-user type you used to find. Only you know how hard it always is to turn around in a dream? How uni-directional they often are? So not only did I not see The Author or the god again, the entire dream turned into something else and quickly ended and I woke, needing to pee, and thought, yay, I didn’t wet the bed and I talked to a god. Not to mention B. etc.

That Christmas classic, The Nutcracker Suite, at Raising Hell.

Woman: You could be a famous singer, you know. [Sips coffee.]
Man: [Chews cornflakes.] Say what?
Woman: I mean, you have a great voice.

Man: Aw.
Woman: And you’re good-looking.
Man: Aw.
Cat: [Looks up in anticipation.]
Woman: Your problem is the personality.
Man: …
Cat: Heh.
Woman: [Sips coffee, turns page of newspaper.]

All I can say is, lucky for us my alarm went off at ten to six this morning, because the world was in the process of ending. It was made of dirt and huge, round boulders, and an earthquake was tearing it apart.

It was fabulous.

In the midst of it all, I was trying to do something typically dreamlike, like thread a needle or something (not literally thread a needle; I was trying to accomplish something in the dream, but cannot now remember what) but it wasn’t particularly frustrating.

I was sort of disappointed that I woke up when I did, because I wanted to see things go kaboom.

And on Saturday, Gamma and I bought scratch tickets at the store and I won fifty euro. Gamma claimed she’d won it, so rather than argue I let her cash it in and collect the money, then pocketed it. She basically forgot about it after that.