I had a wretched night’s sleep, and was up multiple times. I figure this was because I’m in the middle of putting the latest issue of SCI FI<\/i> magazine to bed, and so I kept finding myself awake thinking, “Can I really afford to sleep?” But then I’d force myself to drop off again, because I knew I’d be no good if I attacked the mound of work while fatigued. A side effect of these frequent bouts of consciousness was a plethora of dreams, and each time I woke, I scribbled one down.<\/p>\n
In the first dream, I was at a Readercon<\/a>. I bumped into Texas Triffid Ranch<\/a> there, whom I haven’t seen in a decade, not since an earlier Readercon at which he shaved his head mid-con. I couldn’t stop for as long as I wanted to so we could catch up, though, because I was late for a panel. I don’t know about you guys, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had the cliched dreams of being at school and realizing I didn’t study for a test, or that I’d forgotten to do my homework. For me, anxiety now turns into dream by me being at conventions and unable to find my panels. And so it was this time, symbolizing, I assume, my real-life rush to meet my waking deadline. So I wandered the hotel, unable to find the correct room. Even though I never made it to the panel, my worries faded when I ran into Barack Obama. I sat with him for awhile in the lobby of the hotel, and everything then seemed all right. Wow, that guy can do anything<\/i>!<\/p>\n In the next dream, I was at an exterior level of the Empire State Building with my boss, Craig Engler. For some reason I cannot now comprehend, I was clambering along a parapet in order to get better angles for snapshots of him. I vaguely recall this having something to do with a company newsletter, though even in dream this didn’t seem like something worth risking my life for.<\/p>\n