I dreamed that I had invited a novelist to give a reading on campus. Her name was Vera Documentary, rather odd for a writer of fiction, but the really odd thing was the location of the reading: in a square little room with an immense height disproportional to its meager dimensions. As I stood on the platform and looked down on the tiny upturned faces of the audience far below, I took pity upon their necks.
"You don't need to look up here," I said. "Feel free to gaze at the floor if you like. It's better to listen and pretend to look than to look and pretend to listen."
Then I introduced the author and stood to the side to let her take the stage--except that's when the applause woke me up. I never saw Vera Documentary, but if you ever happen to run into her somewhere, please let her know I'm still waiting to listen.