I dreamed the night before last that I did my reading, and in my dream, it went terribly. (Great—a new anxiety dream scenario. I guess the exam I didn’t study for was getting tired.) My performance wasn’t awful; it was just that everything else in the dream went wrong. I forgot to bring a copy of the story and so I had to go back home for it, which made me late. I had trouble finding the venue, and when I did, it was a tiny classroom hidden upstairs in some dark and depressing school. Only Pipi and a stranger showed up.
I think that in real life, the reading went pretty well. Compared to what I was expecting, it was a smashing success. I got there in plenty of time, with story in hand. The bookstore was well lit, as usual, and lots of people came. In my cheering section I had Pipi, my sister, and several friends. I really appreciate everyone finding a way to rush over there from work. Thank you!
It’s the kind of story that’s too good to spoil with verification--or even attribution: It’s said that an interviewer once asked Mick Jagger what he’d do if the rock ‘n’ roll thing ever fizzled out. “Well,” he supposedly said, “I guess it would be pretty cool to be a travel writer.”
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