I shouldn’t be awake this early. Why am I awake this early? Because I just had a dream argument with Bill Maher, one that riled me up so much I couldn’t get right back to sleep.

Actually, I had two dreams last night that are too detailed to tweet , though after the first one I was able to fall asleep immediately.

In the first dream, I am Doctor Who, the David Tennant Doctor Who. I am battling with The Master in a rotting seaside resort. The place has really gone to seed. Boarded-up businesses, graffiti and trash everywhere, abandoned newspapers blowing by. And it’s deserted. There are no other people to be seen anywhere. We’re the only ones there as we fight on.

Eventually, there comes a point at which I know he has the upper hand. He somehow has obtained the ability to destroy the planet, and will do so unless I surrender, so I allow myself to be captured for the good of the Earth. In fact, I’m actually about to let him kill me, because if I do so, he’ll let the Earth live. For some reason, I believe that he’ll keep his word. Not sure why. As he escorts me through the empty town toward my doom, I talk of all the things I’ve seen in the universe that I will miss, saying goodbye to them one by one.

That bores The Master, and he kills me mid-sentence with no warning. But at least the Earth is saved, and I am happy as I die.

In the second dream of the night, the one that riled me so, I am in the audience for The Stephen Colbert Show, but it doesn’t have its usual set. Instead, Colbert is working from within a professional wrestling ring, and rather than being at ground level, the stage is set way in the air atop a thirty-foot cube. The audience is ringed around the base of the cube in rows at least ten deep. For some reason, I’m by myself sitting on one side of the cube, with the rest of the audience packed tightly all the way on the opposite side.

At one point, Colbert picks up bananas, not just a bunch, but an entire huge cluster, and begins throwing them one by one into the audience. Actually, he throws all of them down at me, and the rest of the audience roars its displeasure. And I start throwing them back, while Colbert dodges. One of the bananas goes all the way over the cube and lands in the audience on the other side, and there’s another crowd roar.

Then the dream cuts to immediately after the show, and Bill Maher is down on the ground, level with me on my side of the cube, getting changed out of what he’s worn on the show as if I’m also in his dressing room. (Until then, I hadn’t even been aware that he’d been on the show). Suddenly, he’s in my face. He’s angry with me for what he calls my disrespect, and also for misusing the word “ubiquitous.” (How? Where? He doesn’t say.) And I get angry back at him, accusing him of acting like an old fart for being angry with me.

How do I do that? I shout, “You—you’re acting just like Alan King!”

He’s terribly taken aback at this, and gives an an “Oh, you didn’t” look, but I keep yelling at him, “That’s right, Alan King! You’re nothing but Alan King!” His expression is as if that’s the worst thing anyone has ever told him in his life, and the dream ends that way, with him going “What did you say?” and “No, you didn’t!” while I shout over and over again variations on “Alan King! Alan King! You’re nothing but Alan King!”

And then I woke so stirred up that I couldn’t get back to sleep. So of course I had to come here and tell you before it all faded away. Maybe now that I’ve written the dream down I’ll try for a nap before admitting defeat and getting to work.

But first—an answer to some of your questions and comments about my dreams. What’s with all the dreams about science-fiction convention and writers and TV personalities and movie celebrities? Are you starstruck? Where are the normal dreams, the ones reflecting the angst of your daily life?

All I can say to that is that I guess I am for the most part happy, and though I have worries about what will come, I tend to be accepting, and not particularly anxious or fearful about the future. I tend to believe that things will work themselves out, and so I guess my dream life tends not to be a wrestling with those real-life issues, but rather about hanging out with my friends, even those I haven’t made in the flesh yet, or else surreal entertainments. Though I have the occasional nightmare, my dreams are for the most part pleasant, or at least intriguing, like these.

Even if that does mean an the occasional broken sleep thanks to an argument with someone like BIll Maher.