Yesterday was a good day. Hugo nominations, yay! Plus lots of time with friends and associates and whatnot. No drinking for me with my fragile liver, but here I am.
However, my dream life last night was particularly strange. In retrospect, I think I was dreaming about being dead, about being a ghost.
In part one, I discovered that taxi cab drivers have the Knowledge about who among us are Duplicates and who among us are Originals. That’s why taxi rides sometimes go weird ways: to keep the Duplicates and Originals separated. Much to my dismay, I discovered I was not an Original. I wound up running away and hiding in someone’s office and trying to take control of my life from my Original.
In part two, I was traveling. Except I had gotten lost. Seriously, utterly, don’t-know-what-city-I-am-in, don’t-know-where-I-am-going lost. I couldn’t read my own travel documents. Within the dreamspace, I thought I was experiencing aphasia. I tried calling my parents for help, but my brother answered the phone and couldn’t hear me. He apparently thought it was a dead line. Everywhere I went, people didn’t see or hear me.
So, yeah. A weird way to wake up.