I dreamt this morning that I was once more back at the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers’ Workshop. In the real world, I had attended as a student in 1979, and then returned to teach in 1999 and 2003, and in my sleep I was teaching again.

I had just arrived, and the administrator was giving me a tour of the facilities. We were on the floor of the dorm in which the students were housed, and I had to duck my head the entire time, because the ceiling was very low, much like floor 7 1/2 in the film Being John Malkovich. I was unable to stand up straight, and had to hunch over as I walked down the hall. Bemused by this, I told my guide that I didn’t remember the ceilings having been so low any of the previous times I’d been there. But I accepted the change.

At the end of the hall, we arrived at a student lounge where the ceilings were back to normal. Darrell Schweitzer was there. It turned out that he was going to be one of the teachers that year, which seemed strange to me, since I know that in reality he attended the workshop long, long ago, but I don’t think that he ever returned to teach there. We then headed toward the cafeteria for a breakfast with the students, and along the way I was amazed by how clean and well-decorated the walls were.

It was as if we were in a museum rather than a university building, with white walls adorned with framed book covers and science-fiction movie posters. I complimented my guide on how they’d changed the place since I was there last, and then suddenly, real life intruded in a way, as I realized that Clarion was no longer being held at Michigan State University, and I was therefore somewhere else. But in the dream, I couldn’t remember where I was. I had no idea what facility or even what state I was in.

So before heading in for breakfast, I sat outside the cafeteria at a computer screen and attempted to pull up the Clarion site to find out where I physically was. (Wonder why it didn’t occur to me to simply ask someone?) While I worked the computer, Bob Howe, who it turned out would also be teaching Clarion that year, chimed in from where he sat nearby. I didn’t have time to look things up right then, he told me, because I should go in to take part in the group breakfast. I told him it would just take a moment, and googled away, but couldn’t find out where the Clarion I was at was taking place. I joked with Bob that if I found any errors online I’d use a bottle of Wite-Out to correct them on the screen.

I woke while continuing to search, which could be predicted based on my previous behavior when in a dream state, as any attempt to retrieve information, either by reading a book, map, or sign, or wandering the Internet, always leads to immediate consciousness. The only way for me to stay asleep and in dream is to be accepting, not struggle to understand, and go with the flow.

Often, I am unable to find the specific catalyst for any of my dreams, but this time I imagine that it related to the Halloween party I attended last night at the home of Julia and Richard Duncan over in Columbia, which was attended by multiple Odyssey veterans, including Julia Dncan, Sharon Keir Patry, and Rita Oakes, as well as by Sandy Stewart and Risa Stewart, who are members of a writers’ group I used to attend before life got so busy. I’m not sure why that took me to Clarion in my dream, rather than Odyssey or my old workshop, but I understand why my subconscious had workshopping on the mind.

As for the Halloween party itself, Irene and I had a lot of fun. Here we are as the Ace of Hearts and the Ace of Spades.

Amazingly, I was given the prize for funniest costume!

The Duncan family—costumed as Gomez, Morticia, Wednesday, and Uncle Fester from the Addams Family—had festooned their place with skulls, dripping blood, a headless skeleton, and much more, and put out a spread which included edible eyeballs and a gummie-worm salad, as well as plenty of less-grotesque but still tasty food.

And as far as I know, everyone survived.