Originally published at Scott Edelman. Please leave any comments there.
October was busy, with a visit from friends and three convention trips, which means it was a light month for dreams. Travel and visiting, whether from or to friends, leads to exhaustion, which in turn leads to fewer dreams. But still, I managed to have many guest stars and strange occurances while I slept.
Let’s see, as usual, whether poetry is made when they rub up against each other like this …
I dreamt that while I was on the phone with my father, I accidentally shot myself. But don’t worry — it was only a flesh wound! 30 Oct
I dreamt my girlfriend and I were living with a cult, supposedly happy, but talking to each other in code about our plans to soon escape. 28 Oct
I dreamt friends had a baby that — though he was chubby and healthy — was only the size of a hardboiled egg. I was scared to feed him. 27 Oct
I dreamt I lent Eastbound & Down‘s Guy Young a sweater — he put it on inside out, and it immediately started unraveling, trailing threads. 27 Oct
I dreamt there was a problem at the Neb banquet: Someone had forgotten the red noses! So @ColleenLindsay leapt on horseback to save the day. 27 Oct
I’ve lost the details of my dreams. But there was one about BBQ. And one about dumping leftover pain meds. And one about a con suite. Sigh. 25 Oct
I dreamt I ran to the roof of an apartment, feeling hunted. Then mercury oozed up though my feet, bursting out the top of my head. I woke! 24 Oct
I dreamt I took my son to see “On the Twentieth Century,” but though the curtain rose and the actors came out, no one ever started singing. 24 Oct
I dreamt I watched an episode of Dr. Phil in which viewers had to ID a superhero from art — I scrawled Barry Allen/The Flash on a postcard. 24 Oct
I dreamt I was a walking corpse, showing the disfiguring signs of my death, standing in a line with similar others waiting to be judged. 23 Oct
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