The Writer Dream

I dreamed I was with another writer. He never came into focus for me so I can’t provide a description.

We were in a small, long room with cinder block walls that were painted light green. He and a few others were seated at a long folding table that’d been set up. They were sitting on metal folding chairs. I was across from them. The writer been published after long years of effort. His first published book was a bestseller, so now, suddenly, they wanted more of his work to publish.

Several people were present, helping him, but I remained a spectator. He had cardboard boxes of stuff. First, he pulled out novels that he’d written that were printed out on computer fan-fold paper using a dot-matrix printer. After making three stacks of those, he added another stack of printed standard paper. Then he drew out stacks of black five and a quarter floppy discs and made a neat collection of those. Last, he drew out colorful three and a half inch floppies and made another tall deck. This was his work, which made me laugh. I wanted to say, hey, I have all those at home, too.

A blonde woman who’d been sitting by and helping said, “Okay, now we need to get these out to people. How’re we going to do that?” Some conversation that I couldn’t follow came up.

Then, bizarrely, we were walking. Leaving an airport gate, we headed out of one terminal and into another, going for a down escalator. A woman in a dark blue sweater was ahead of us. Glancing over her shoulder quickly twice, I realized that she was interested in the blonde woman that I accompanied. Then I knew that the blonde woman was famous (but I didn’t know why) and that the woman in the sweater was a fan.

I said to the sweater woman, “It’s okay, you can approach.”

She pretended not to hear me (that was my impression). I said something to the blonde woman. Smiling, she replied, “I’ll take care of it.” Increasing her stride a bit, she caught up with the other person, and said, “Hi,” in a wonderfully friendly voice. “I saw you look at me and thought that I’d like to meet you.”

That’s when the dream ended.