Star Trek, woo.
I had a really geeky dream. We (Ryan, Kira and I) were in a mall, and Ryan wanted to go jogging. So he left to go running around the mall; Kira and I turned around and saw familiarish people troop to the nearby bookstore. Curious, I followed them in. Turns out they were the surviving cast of the original Star Trek, and they were doing an unadvertized book signing. I guess they wrote an autobiographical book, in my dream.
Anyways, I thought this was super great fun, because I like the original Star Trek and it would be neat to buy a book and get it signed by the cast. I hung around the authors' tables for a while, gazing at the brisk business they were doing with the growing crowd who realized that celebrities were in the house. I finally decided to get in line and get a book signed, so I went to the registration table. The guy there said "Sorry, you have to sign in to approach the Star Trek cast -- but the maximum number of customers has been reached for this session".
I was mad at myself -- I could have signed in a long time ago, rather than admiring the hub-bub. So I hung around some more, with Kira patiently waiting at my side (this clearly is not reality). I finally caught Leonard Nimoy's eye and I dove in. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could possibly sign my book."
He smiles, and takes my book. He says something, I say something back, and I bring up the topic that I've recently contributed some writing to an anthology of short stories and poetry.
"But it's just self-published," I say.
He leans forward and cups his mouth with one hand, whispering. "This is self-published too."
I smile and lean forward, whispering back. "That means you get ALL the profit."
Ha ha, I have stupid dreams.
Anyways, I thought this was super great fun, because I like the original Star Trek and it would be neat to buy a book and get it signed by the cast. I hung around the authors' tables for a while, gazing at the brisk business they were doing with the growing crowd who realized that celebrities were in the house. I finally decided to get in line and get a book signed, so I went to the registration table. The guy there said "Sorry, you have to sign in to approach the Star Trek cast -- but the maximum number of customers has been reached for this session".
I was mad at myself -- I could have signed in a long time ago, rather than admiring the hub-bub. So I hung around some more, with Kira patiently waiting at my side (this clearly is not reality). I finally caught Leonard Nimoy's eye and I dove in. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could possibly sign my book."
He smiles, and takes my book. He says something, I say something back, and I bring up the topic that I've recently contributed some writing to an anthology of short stories and poetry.
"But it's just self-published," I say.
He leans forward and cups his mouth with one hand, whispering. "This is self-published too."
I smile and lean forward, whispering back. "That means you get ALL the profit."
Ha ha, I have stupid dreams.