I'm finding that I don't have much to journal about of late, probably because I'm so freaking BUSY. Work's pretty nutty, I'm still cranking away at the revisions to the paranormal romance novel due a week from tomorrow (shouldn't be a problem finishing by then, so long as I can polish up the last 6 chapters before the weekend, so I can re-read the whole shebang one more time Saturday and Sunday), and I feel like I barely have time to see Drew before he zonks out for the night, and I see Elizabeth when I zonk out myself. Weird.

But instead of boring you any more with all that...

Let me tell you about the weird dreams I had this morning.

I rarely can remember my dreams upon waking, much less retain them an entire day. But I blame our damn cat -- he can sense the instant I'm awake. I was worried about Drew the past few nights, because of his ear infection, so I wasn't sleeping all that deeply, so when I sorta woke up around 4 a.m., the cat started hollering to be let out, which I usually accompany with a swift kick to the feline's ass on his way out the door.

Then my alarm went off at 4:30, and I turned it off and went back to sleep.

The only good thing about my sleep being interrupted like that was that I can totally remember both snippets of dreams I had.

Ironically, the first dream had Neil Gaiman in it (Mr. Sandman himself). I blame this on the fact that I'm re-reading his AMERICAN GODS again before I pick up his new book ANANSI BOYS, and I'm loving the first book quite a bit.

So in the dream, Elizabeth and I are eating dinner in some dark, dungeon-like restaurant with 4-5 friends (two of the friends are wearing black sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up, I think). Don't remember who the friends are, sorry to say. And the place reminded me of the Rathskeller in Chapel Hill, but with less stuff crammed into every nook and cranny.

We get up to leave and see Gaiman at the table with his wife and three kids (I checked today, and indeed he does have three kids!). Everyone in the family is wearing brown, but he's got the trademark black leather jacket on. They're all chatting and hanging out, and next thing I know, Elizabeth is introducing us: "Neil Gaiman! I'm Elizabeth, and this is my husband Mike Jasper," and so on. Gaiman shakes my hand, everyone's chatting, a nice scene, and he mentions, off-hand "Oh yeah, I've heard of you."

Then the cat wakes me up. Damn it!!!

The second dream struck me as a perfect beginning to a novel or a story, probably a YA one -- our protagonist is sitting inside his house, maybe it's an apartment, alone, and he watches his "friend" come up the back sidewalk, moving fast, all confident and agressiveness (all the things our hero lacks, of course), and the "friend" opens the back door, lights a match, drops it onto the floor, and says, "Let's go." Our protagonist follows him out the door. Then my alarm went off. Damn!

Still, not bad for someone who never remembers his dreams. Later!