I dreamt last night that I was wandering a science-fiction convention, and it must have been a big one, because all of the usual suspects were there. As I walked back from a lunch with Jack Dann, along the way we bumped into Connie Willis, John Kessel, Adam-Troy Castro, Melissa Anna Singer, Sheila Williams, and many others. There was lots of loud conversation and much picture-taking.

The only odd thing about the dream was that when I ran into Marc Scott Zicree, he didn’t appear as his usual clean-cut self. Instead, he had long, wild hair, as if he hadn’t cut it in years, and he was dressed like a stereotypical ’60s hippie. We joked about how much he had changed since I’d last seen him, and I asked him where he’d stashed his VW van with flowers painted on the side.

Now why did my subconscious do that to a nice guy like Marc?