I swear to God this is true: Last night I was having a dream. The details of the dream aren’t particularly important; what is important is that in the middle of the dream it stopped. And this happened:
Excuse me, did you write your Filmcritic.com
column for the week? It’s due tomorrow at nine,
Why, yes. Yes, I did. I filed it last night.
Oh, terribly sorry, then. Please continue.
And then the dream resumed as if nothing had happened.
I suppose it’s nice that my brain is keeping track of these things. On the other hand, dear real world: I sleep to escape you. Stop trying to get in.
I think I need a nap.