I guess I was tweeting my dreams before Twitter was even invented.

I’ve been sharing my dreams online since I started blogging in 2007. And once I got hooked on Twitter, I continued the practice there, which made sense, since not every dream deserves more than 140 characters.

Some nights the picking are slim, but other nights I’ve remembered as many as eight dreams. I’ve been asked whether I’ve always been able to recall my dreams, and I think I have. As proof, here are some dreams I scribbled down from January through March of 1970, when I was only 14.

Some of you have told me that you look forward to learning each morning what I dreamed the night before. You might enjoy this blast from the past.

Others have told me they wonder why I share my dreams at all. You won’t.

I’d read a paperback about lucid dreaming—this was a period when I was reading a lot of Edgar Cayce—and so I decided to attempt it. I was never successful at it; that is, I was never able to control where I went in dream. But when I woke, I was able to bring back many surreal moments. Here are a dozen of the most interesting ones from that period.

I was walking on ceiling in an anti-gravity atmosphere. Filled with seats like from a movie.

Two men are pushing a rock down a ditch. Their boss comes along and kills one of them but spares the other one.

I am doing experiments on mice. The mice are spelling words by crashing through holes with letters on them.

A stuntman in a motion picture is being whipped. Something goes wrong and the whip really works. He becomes completely deformed somehow. A boy turns him into a monster in a comics shop.

Person floating down river covered with a plastic shield or force field.

I get a phaser. We get in car and I try using it but it doesn’t work. We go to Coney Island. … When we are leaving, I phaser a radio that is in front of dad. It all disintegrates but one metallic part.

Reading Fantastic Four comic book.

There is a fight between Hulk, Dr. Strange and me (Thing). The front door gets knocked off. At the end, Hulk is in my room and throws stuff (books) all over the place.

Someone stole a script from me while I was on another planet and became famous on it. To get revenge I come to earth with evidence. While getting out of spaceship had to run so that we could destroy it so no one could learn her secrets. We stole a miniature tank from the army and destroyed the ship.

One of my friends dies but a man living with us brings him back to life.

I go back into the past with [REDACTED]. We never leave the car. We meet a caveman. An ostrich takes something of ours and runs away. He tries to get it back. I open the window of the car and the ostrich tries to stick his head in and I close it on him.

A man tries to kill me because I killed his son on Pearl Harbor Day. He then sees a stamp that stated the time that it started and realized that he killed his son, not me.

I guess I haven’t really changed that much at all in the past 41 years.

I seem to have had fewer dreams in April than during any other month I’ve yet shared with you. Some of that is due to the exhaustion of two con weekends—Ad Astra and World Horror—which messed with my sleep cycle so much I was unable to bring any back from my subconscious. We had our daffodil party weekend that month, too, which also had me running on fumes.

In any case, here’s what April left me with—visits from Walt Disney, Adam-Troy Castro, Dan Aykroyd, Stan Lee … and maybe you.

April 2011

I dreamt I was at a snooty club ordering a drink and explaining to Barbara Walters why life was like an Amtrak train ride from DC to NYC. 26 Apr

I dreamt that when I opened my local newspaper, every comic strip there was drawn by the same guy — Dave Cockrum’s (nonexistent) brother. 25 Apr

I dreamt Paul Di Filippo and I found a cache of hand grenades near a school and raced to submerge them in wet concrete before they exploded. 25 Apr

I dreamt I was bitching because my favorite local comics shop was closing and would reopen where I’d never be able to visit it — in London. 25 Apr

I dreamt I was a woman dying of cancer who was working up the nerve to break up with her girlfriend in order to attend a Worldcon in Israel. 25 Apr

I dreamt I tried to crack open a safe — if clumsily hitting it over and over again with a hammer can in any way be considering “cracking.” 24 Apr

I dreamt I snuck into K. Tempest Bradford’s dorm room (next to my own) to pull a prank involving old timey rolls of fax paper and Mars bars. 24 Apr

I dreamt Stephen Colbert and I wandered a college campus as he told he about the new character he’d portray — the anime hero Charlie-Har. 24 Apr

I dreamt I wandered Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn, where I bumped into Bob Eggleton and asked him in amazement — Bob, when did you move HERE? 24 Apr

I dreamt I was at a luncheonette counter discussing spousal abuse, which I could see struck a nerve with the other couples sitting there. 24 Apr (more…)

I normally tweet my dreams, but this one turned out to be too intriguing to condense into 140 characters.

I dreamt I was nominated for a Hugo Award, and had entered an area by the side of the stage where a cocktail party was being held for the nominees. Once inside, I mingled with friends until I came upon one of my old Marvel bosses, the long-dead Archie Goodwin. While chatting with him, and wondering in what category the comic book writer/editor had been nominated, I was strangely unsurprised to see him there alive (in the waking world, he died in 1998), looking much as he had when I’d last known him in the early ’80s.

While wandering the room and continuing to schmooze, I suddenly noticed that I wasn’t wearing the suit I usually would for such an event—I was instead In a tie-dyed t-shirt and a pair of jeans shorts.

What I found so interesting about the dream is this—here is where it could all have veered into anxiety dream territory, with me stumbling about, crying “Oh, no,” and wondering how the heck I could get back to my hotel room and change into a suit in time. I could have felt embarrassed over my state, or started to worry about how silly I’d look if I won that night and had to take the stage dressed that way.

Instead, I immediately found it funny.

I told a seated George R.R. Martin that this oversight might be a good omen, that I’d lost the Hugo all four times I’d previously been nominated and showed up wearing a suit, and so perhaps this time, dressed like that, the universe was playing a joke on me and would have me win so I’d have to go up in front of thousands of people that way. That turned the whole dream around, banishing any anxiety that might have arisen, and I found it all hilarious, instantly thinking of how much fun I could have laying it out that way in my acceptance speech.

And as I went around the room sharing this silliness with friends, I woke happy, not just because of that dreamworld realization, but also because of the real-world realization that I’d turned what could have been an anxiety dream inside out. I was glad that, even unconscious, I could look on the bright side of life.

No idea what category I was nominated in, though.

As those of you who follow me on Twitter and/or Facebook know, I have a very active dream life. February turned out to be no exception, with a total of 77 recorded dreams. There were mornings I woke to find that I’d scrawled out notes relating to as many as five different dreams through the course of a night night.

Making guest appearances last month were Raylan Givens, Stan Lee, Randy Newman, John Mellencamp, Frank Sinatra, Howard Wolowitz … and who knows, maybe you.

FEBRUARY 2010

I dreamt I stole a baby being mistreated at an old timey exhibit, brought him (or maybe her) home, and then put him up for adoption. 28 Feb

I dreamt I was a kid and snuck into my neighbor’s yard to pet her huge dog. She turned out to be Helen Keller, and we talked. Yes. Talked. 28 Feb

I dreamt I wandered a UK children’s museum, where I met and became friends with Ellen Page, who turned out to work there in her spare time. 28 Feb

I dreamt I arrived at Sovereign Media as if I had a job there, but couldn’t talk to any of my coworkers because they were all on the phone. 27 Feb

I dreamt my son dropped by and told us that he’d lost his wallet, but the more he talked about the more it seemed like he’d been mugged. 27 Feb

I dreamt I followed V’s Erica Evans through the streets of D.C., eating endless apples and dropping their cores behind me to leave a trail. 26 Feb

I dreamt I partied in a speakeasy with a young Frank Sinatra as the liquor flowed freely, flappers danced around us, and tough mugs gambled. 26 Feb

I dreamt I bumped into John Mellencamp in a bookstore, but wanted to respect him and give him his space, so didn’t speak, but merely nodded. 25 Feb

I dreamt that after a workout with The Biggest Loser’s Bob Harper, we agreed to do it again on a specific date and time … in two years. 25 Feb

I dreamt I was far from home and desperately trying to make it home by nightfall. Not quite sure what would happen if I didn’t, though. 25 Feb (more…)

February’s begun, and you know what that means—it’s time to gather in one place all the dreams I tweeted about during the month of January.

As usual, plenty of members of the convention-going crowd are included, but this month you’ll also find Conan O’Brien, Frank Sinatra, Marlon Brando, Martin Sheen, Richard Dreyfuss, and other unusual suspects.

Who knows? Maybe you’re in there, too!

JANUARY 2011

I dreamt I tried to help a drug addict on the subway by telling him how well rehab had worked for my sister-in-law. (Which is not true!) 30 Jan

I dreamt when I left the Syfy office, my elevator zoomed to a basement where I was tossed in a van because they suspected I was an alien. 30 Jan

I dreamt I visited American Idol, where Randy told me of the time he worked with my cousin Herb, and Ryan offered me a low-paying job. 30 Jan

I dreamt I was driven in a speeding car while trying not to spill an overfull bowl of matzoh ball soup delicately balanced on one knee. 30 Jan

I dreamt my father was upset because I visited FL on his birthday rather than my mother’s. (It didn’t bother me that he was suddenly alive.) 30 Jan

I dreamt I was woken by the rowdy singing of “When the Saints Go Marching In,” and looked outside to see a group of mourning AA members. 30 Jan

I dreamt I was a doglike alien creature in a pixelated video game world, cheerfully exploring — opening doors, looking under things, etc. 29 Jan

I dreamt I bought three extremely large almond croissants at a bakery. Together, they were so HUGE no bag was large enough to hold them. 29 Jan

I dreamt I was researching apartments rather than hotels for a long trip to Australia, and the cheapest I could find cost $8,000 per month. 29 Jan

I dreamt I bumped into Eric Van and David Shaw at Readercon, and was surprised to see them wearing identical wild, blinding, garish shirts. 28 Jan (more…)

Another month has gone by, which means I’ve dreamed another mess o’ dreams, so I’ve gathered them in one place because they somehow seem more meaningful when they rub up against each other like this. And more surreal, too.

Special guest stars this month include Bob Newhart, Bob Silverberg, Fred Pohl, Cybill Shepherd, Don Draper, the Queen—and who knows, maybe even you.

I dreamt I was scripting a new issue of a comic about a hero I’d never seen before, flipping through pencil art bound together like a book. 30 Nov

I dreamt I was giving my opening talk to a new class of Clarion students. Inexplicably, on the wall behind me were huge drawings of the JLA. 30 Nov

I dreamt I was explaining the allure of San Diego Comic-Con to Adam Richman of Man v. Food. He seemed amused, but not convinced. 30 Nov

I dreamt I discussed my past life working for the company that imported St. Paul Girl with Barry Longyear, who said he’d worked for Beck’s. 30 Nov

I dreamt Lt. Dangle wasted his bullets firing his gun into the air rather than at the armed gang approaching, then looked at me sheepishly. 29 Nov

I dreamt I was at the bottom of a flight of stairs staring up at my son and sister-in-law across a pile of hundreds of empty VHS tape boxes. 29 Nov

I dreamt I rolled out huge squares of dough on a glass table and topped them with jam, but woke before I was able to cook or eat the result. 29 Nov

I dreamt I waited outside a Giant supermarket for it to close, after which I scavenged discarded onions, grapes and purple and white lilies. 28 Nov

I dreamt a man was telling me the tale of how my mother-in-law saved his family business from going under by buying out the store one day. 28 Nov

I dreamt I had trouble juggling (pointlessly using my glow-in-the-dark pins during the day) because everything kept trying to float off. 28 Nov (more…)

Another month has come and gone, and you know what that means—it’s time to harvest the October dreams from my Twitter feed.

Making guest appearances in my dreamworld this month were Nalo Hopkinson, Len Wein, Harlan Ellison, Madonna, Paul Levitz, Adam Baldwin, and many others. (Including—who knows?—maybe you!)

I dreamt I was being chased by a high school gang drawn like Archie characters, and I was only saved due to the intervention of Miss Grundy. 30 Oct

I dreamt that as I wandered the hallways of a strange hotel, hundreds of people dressed like Alice in Wonderland characters passed by. 29 Oct

I dreamt I bumped into an ex-Syfy employee in a parking lot, then another, and another, until it was a noisy, crowded backslapping reunion. 28 Oct

I dreamt I was trying to retrieve a package of art–including a George McManus Bringing Up Father–that had been misdelivered to Rose Fox. 27 Oct

I dreamt that I woke from a dream and wrote it down, so when I actually woke I didn’t think I needed to write it down. So it’s lost. 26 Oct

I wrote this down to help me remember a dream come morning: “punch commission guy arrested carried away.” But the words mean nothing now. 26 Oct

I dreamt I went to the bank, and my loan officer turned out to be an actress from Gatz, a bit sheepish to be recognized at her day job. 25 Oct

I dreamt I ran into one of my Clarion students, who grew upset when I told him I didn’t understand the ending to his latest story in F&SF. 25 Oct

I dreamt I threw a rent party in my decrepit NYC apartment. But by 3:00 a.m. on Monday morning, I tried (and failed) to shut it down. 25 Oct

I dreamt I attended Worldcon and watched Mike Willmoth furiously complete the program grid for the _following_ year’s con on a whiteboard. 25 Oct (more…)

I woke to a dream this morning that was far too interesting to fit into 140 characters as were all the other dreams I’ve been tweeting these many months, and so I waited until now to tell it to you.

I was in a small hotel ballroom, occupied by no more than 50 people. Into the room, one at a time, came modern day professional wrestlers, and the crowd made much of them, cheering, taking pictures, getting autographs. But then came Killer Kowalski, an old-school wrestler, and he was ignored. (In real life, of course, when alive, he would have ben as mobbed as anyone.)

I thought this was a shame, so I went over to him, and starting telling him about my grandfather the bookie (yes, he was one) and held out my camera for someone to take a picture of the two of us.

Suddenly, there was Friend A, who will go unnamed for reasons which will soon become clear. I asked him to snap a picture, and he tried and failed repeatedly. The first shot had microphones blocking our faces, the next, stanchions. Then, we were out of focus. Again and again he tried, but whatever he did, he failed. He was too inept to successfully take a picture of me and Killer.

So I took the camera away and handed it to Friend B, who also appeared as if by magic. I put my arm around Killer’s shoulders; he did the same to me. And this second friend holding the camera turned thoughtful, and scratched his chin, and moved from one part of the room to another, trying to get a good angle. He asked us to turn this way and that, which Killer took in good humor, but I could tell he was growing frustrated.

I said, “Just take the damn picture” to Friend B, but no, he was so finicky that he never snapped a single shot, just rehearsed for them, planned for them, considered them, rejecting chance after chance.

And that’s how I woke, repeating again and again, “Just take the damn picture! Take it! Take the damn picture!”

So that is what my subconscious is telling me I must REALLY think of these two friends. One is inept, and the other finicky.

And both shall remain nameless.

Those of you who follow me on Twitter or Facebook already know that I reported far fewer dreams during September than any other month since I began tweeting those I remembered each morning. In case you were worried that my dream life was drying up … it’s not.

It’s just that during our trip to Australia and New Zealand, I’d be so exhausted each night I’d forget to place a pad by the side of the bed on which I could scribble during the night, and so when I’d wake the next morning, I’d find most dreams had evaporated. But now that I’m home, I’m back to recording them once more.

So here’s what September left behind.

I dreamt Priscilla Olson showed me video she shot of a building which featured a Sistine Chapel-like ceiling of Marvel and DC superheroes. September 30, 2010 8:16:38 AM EDT

I dreamt Ellen Datlow was handing out invitations to a birthday party celebrating some major number. (And it was to be held in Warsaw.) September 29, 2010 8:21:51 AM EDT

I dreamt that while touring London, I grew so tired I lay down in the middle of a crowded intersection and fell asleep. No one disturbed me. September 29, 2010 8:18:41 AM EDT

I dreamt I celebrated my 40th anniversary of con-going by handing out HUGE commemorative badge ribbons that contained an entire short story. September 29, 2010 8:16:31 AM EDT

I dreamt I worked in a morgue, and was preparing for a Moon trip by reading a training manual with a dead, bloated horse on the cover. September 29, 2010 8:13:07 AM EDT

I dreamt I was a teenager, and still living with my parents in their 1970s’ apartment. Only I wasn’t me. I was Jeff VanderMeer! September 27, 2010 8:01:53 AM EDT

I dreamt I wore a weird, massive, steampunk bracelet I’d soldered together out of used auto parts, but was forbidden to wear it on the job. September 27, 2010 7:59:22 AM EDT

I dreamt that it was the final day of a perfect Readercon, and my friends were dispersing back to their lives. It was melancholy moment. September 27, 2010 7:57:27 AM EDT

I dreamt that while staying at a hotel, another guest I never met invaded my room, and proceeded to set the contents of the closet on fire. September 27, 2010 7:54:21 AM EDT

I dreamt that while wandering a post-apocalyptic world, I came upon an empty castle and stole the munitions I found there, firing rockets. September 27, 2010 7:52:05 AM EDT (more…)

I haven’t posted here since August 26th, which shows just how badly the Australian Worldcon, the New Zealand vacation that followed, and the post-vacation catching up at work took out of me. So for those of you who don’t follow me on either Twitter or Facebook and have wondered at the silence—yes, I’m alive!

But before I get back to regular posts, I think a bit of housecleaning is in order. So, with September almost done, here are August’s dream tweets, which I haven’t had time to collect and share with you until now.

I dreamt my teeth were falling out, which is one of the most common dreams, but the first time (that I can recall) it’s ever happened to me. August 29, 2010 7:53:48 AM

I dreamt the eggs I was scrambling overflowed their pans and expanded to fill the kitchen, like something out of an episode of I Love Lucy. August 28, 2010 7:18:37 AM

I dreamt two mad doctors were about to anesthetize me for some nefarious purpose, so I grabbed a baseball bat and beat the crap out of them. August 28, 2010 7:16:30 AM

I dreamt I sang a rousing rendition of “Stagger Lee,” but why and to whom, I no longer remember. Wish you could have heard me, though. August 28, 2010 7:14:06 AM

Last night’s dreams were a jumble: Running into high school friends, standing in long lines, starring in Guys and Dolls. Nothing coherent. August 27, 2010 7:33:01 AM

I dream I appeared on David Letterman to show off the Star Wars robot I’d designed. The name of my droid? The DeathToot 2000. August 26, 2010 6:26:02 AM

I dreamt I quit my job as a fashion designer (or so I said in the dream) because: “I want to do more than make rich people look powerful.” August 26, 2010 6:22:27 AM

I dreamt I was preparing to interview Stan Lee on TV. Stan was in a bathrobe. I was getting dressed, pulling pins out of the shirt I’d wear. August 26, 2010 6:21:09 AM

I dreamt I was at a Stoker banquet at which a zombie took the stage and ATE a copy of my What Will Come After. I protested. It didn’t care. August 25, 2010 8:14:25 AM

I dreamt that I woke, and as I stood, Dave Cockrum’s ghost appeared to deliver an important message. If only I could remember what it was! August 25, 2010 8:10:52 AM (more…)