How fucked up is this?
I just had a dream that Glenn Reynolds, the Instapundit, came up to my house to tell me he wanted to cowrite an sf novel about a car built with nanotechnology.
He was driving a green Ford F350. The interior was spotless.
He was tired of all the banal means that had been used to imagine inanimate objects waking up to sentience. He said he wanted a book that was "Killdozer meets Old Yeller."
I think I'm feverish.
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Buckethead
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I had a dream in the wee hours just this morning centered around Jesse Ventura and Mean Gene Okerlund wanting me to be a partner in a bar they were opening.
The place had lots of wood and was very warm feeling but not snooty, with a decent pub menu.
The deal was looking shaky though because I wouldn't wear a banana hammock to the meetings and they were rather adamant I do so. After some back and forth I decided to don the garment but sleep in it and see if my comfort level improved at all.
I was trying to sleep curled up on the street in front of the place but some guy kept waking me up by tapping me on the shoulder just as I drifted off.
You should start a new "True Dreaming" series.