All I can recall of last night's dream is a large banquet that was taking place. I was there, along with thousands of others who were dressed up quite nicely. The only other person I knew there was Neil Silveus (was that two days in a row?). The only significant action in the dream I remember is giving him a gift: an autographed copy of "The Killing Joke" by Alan Moore. The version I gave him looked like an old library book, and it even had that nasty clear plastic cover that one would find on books in an elementary school library. Oh, I also remember sliding down a banister and being scolded.
Then I awoke.
No comments:
Post a Comment