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I dreamt last night I lived on a curb, halfway up a hill at the top of which was a French cafe and at the bottom of which Neil Gaiman was trying to prove H.P. Lovecraft wrote for television in the 60s. Gaiman figured into the second dream I had last night, too--he was taking a young Debbie Reynolds on a date in a museum the size of a city. It was ( Read more... )