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.