Mr. Gaiman, Sir, Meet Captain Hook

I slept in about 45 minutes longer this morning than I usually do, because I was dreaming.

The first dream I remember was about Neil Gaiman, ha ha. I was standing outside Media Play (*sigh*), the first person in line for a Neil Gaiman book signing. It was windy and a little cold. I was standing there shivering a bit, and I looked down the sidewalk toward a little knot of people headed in my direction. Mr. Gaiman was totally unmistakeable, as I always thought he'd be. Really tall, black jacket, sunglasses.

Immediately, I leaned against the building, striking what I thought was a very cool and nonchalant pose. A pose that said, "I am not a crazy fan. I'm just a very cool person leaning against this building because that is what the cool people do. They lean."

Mr. Gaiman saw through my artifice, but he was very nice and friendly. Somehow we both got inside the store but not together. Sara was working at the store and selling Neil's books, and even in my dreams I was envious of anyone who got paid to sell books.

Almost seamlessly, it felt, this little vignette segued into a dream about a big production taking place at a church. It was not a churchy kind of show--that just happened to be where the show was being put on. I ran to the dressing rooms (which, of course, were the church bathrooms) to find out what part they needed me to play. My brother Andrew said, "A musketeer!" He threw a costume at me and drew a Captain Hook mustache over my upper lip. The costume was very Captain Hook and not very musketeer.

My friend Lindsay from high school was there, and she was sort of the boss--I went to her to complain about Andrew telling me we needed a musketeer when there was already a musketeer on stage. She rolled her eyes. I said to her, "Well, I can't go around half-dressed." And I put on the rest of the costume and, I assume, wandered around looking like Captain Hook for the rest of my dream.

I went downstairs. The church was familiar, by the way. I couldn't tell which one it was, but it's a place I've often dreamed about. Anyway, I went downstairs and into an area with hardwood floors. I don't know why I was sneaking around, but I remember trying very, very hard to keep my footsteps from making noise, but I got caught anyway. Some little blonde thing. She vaguely reminded me of someone else I went to school with, only shorter and brattier. She was giving me what-for, and I thought, "What the heck? I don't have to take this from a little munchkin."

I grabbed her arm to set her straight. She was trying to walk away. When I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward me, her face smacked into the wall. Which, looking back, was quite hilarious. But in the dream I was just annoyed that I had underestimated my strength, and now she would be even more upset and wouldn't listen to the very important things I had to say. Then I woke up.

I much preferred the Neil Gaiman dream. Less conflict, more fun.