Quick dream post, and I don’t feel badly that I’m up this morning, as I fell asleep by eight-thirty. I dreamt I was doing a show, as we used to call the experience, back at WZRD. I was unprepared, as usual, so I was running from the record library to the booth (different than the real booth, at least the real booth back then, facing south instead of west). I played some Paul Kantner (I think that name emerged because Mary told me a story about sitting next to him in Amsterdam) and Cocteau Twins and ran into the mother of one of my former students in the record library. She’s kind of a liberal hippy, so I wasn’t surprised to see her there. An old black woman yelled at me for letting the sound levels get too high, and I argued with her about where the spikes landed. This dream is a bit more obtuse than usual, it seems.

I wish I had something I was really into reading. Maybe I’ll sleep a bit longer. I’m yawning.