Indiana Joanna (khakipants) wrote,
Indiana Joanna

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A dream

Ok, looking back at the list of things that I was too lazy to write, I've decided to fill you in on at least one of them. So . . . here comes that Neil Gaiman dream:
I was at some sort of book event (featuring, of course, Neil Gaiman) in a place that looked sort of like Lecture Hall 2 at UMBC, but also sort of like a setting that was used once in an episode of The West Wing. The event was essentially over, and everyone and their brother had come down to the front to have Neil sign a book for them. I hung out at the back of the crowd until everyone else had already left, at which point I went up to ask for a signature. I was mightily embarrassed to realize that I hadn't brought anything to be signed, so I rooted through my backpack until I found a spiral notebook. I wanted him to sign the back cover of this notebook, of which someone else had already filled the top half with a long quotation and a loopy signature. Neil took the notebook, signed it, and started drawing a little doodle next to it while we talked. The doodle got larger and larger and more and more complex, and then he started using paint. And more paint. And more paint. I don't know if the notebook got larger, or if he just started painting on anything that was around, but eventually that painted area was the size of a piece of posterboard, and then it filled nearly the whole room. And somehow it was three-dimensional as well. There was blue paint flowing several inches deep through the room, with brown and green islands of paint sticking out. Eventually, Neil was sitting in the middle of a sea of blue paint up to his waist, and there was only a small cresent-shaped white spot that had not yet been painted. (I can not explain why that spot had not been covered by the gallons of paint/water that were flowing across the surface, except to say that it was a dream.) Neil felt that it was imperative that this portion be an island. Nothing else would do. But he was out of paint. A pile of emptied and crushed plastic paint bottles had accumulated in the corner of the room by this time. He sent me to find his art supplies and bring back some brown paint. So I wandered down the hall outside the Lecture Hall, and eventually ended up in my bedroom (without ever going outside. Apparently I live in an academic building in this dream-universe.) Someone had left Neil's tacklebox full of art supplies sitting on my bed, so I opened it up and rooted through. "There's no paint in here!" I shouted down the hall. "Well, then, bring me some brown chalk!" came the response. So I grabbed a piece of chalk and took it back to the Lecture Hall, where the masterpiece was finally completed. Later, once Neil had gathered his belongings and left, I returned to my bedroom to discover a box of colored pencils and several pieces of chalk sitting on my bed. I must have taken them out to find the brown chalk and failed to return them to the tacklebox! Neil is going to think that I stole them! I panicked. After awhile, I decided that the only thing to do was to visit and send a message via the FAQ form that I had his art supplies and that it was an accident.
The dream ended before I was able to put this plan into effect, with the result that my first thought upon waking up was "I need to turn on my computer and send that message about the colored pencils and the chalk". It wasn't until my fifth or sixth thought that I realized it had been a dream.

The thing is, it is rare that I remember a dream, ever rarer that I remember that much detail, and rarer still that I wake up thinking that it really happened. In fact, off hand, I can only call to mind two other instances of thinking a dream was real, and both of them are amazingly unpleasant. The first is the dream in which I was forced to eat sugar-coated candied (raw) fish, after which I woke up feeling physically ill. The second is the one dream in which I was absolutely certain that I was going to die, after which I woke up feeling dreadful and also feeling embarrassed that I was going to be found dead, lying naked on the floor of my shared dorm bathroom, with half of me in the shower stall. This is despite the fact that I was actually lying fully-clothed under a blanket on the giant pillow in my dorm room.

Um. Yeah, well, I guess that's it for now.

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