Dreams are funny things. Most of the time they don't mean anything, but sometimes they do. My mother knows that when she starts dreaming about going to the bathroom (for example, she's at a party and all the women start leaving for the bathroom, one after another) she knows it's time to wake up. That has happened to me too, but only once.
This morning I had a really weird dream featuring Neil Gaiman. Just now, trying to remember some details about it reminded me of the most important Gaiman-related thing in my life right now: Anansi Boys is in at the University Bookstore, and the tickets for Neil Gaiman's book reading/signing on October 4 are also available. Yay!
I think I might have forgotten about it if that dream hadn't reminded me. Thank goodness for subconscious memory.
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