Last night was one of those thoughtful toss-and-turns when dream life and real life overlapped. The urge to get up and pee arrived as usual, but a voice of reason suggested that I could fall asleep again without any consequences.

A deep sleep produced a world hero. This guy was going to ease the tension between normal people and Islamic terrorists. It all came down to a few secrets. My protagonist self became the owner of knowledge based on a peek into the way…

The edge of fabric started to unravel giving a look at the show inside a tent. For a while images were sexual, almost pornographic, but that was excused as smaller thinking that everyone enjoys.


Solid action idea: Move boxes of old stuff from the shed after sorting into relative likeness.  Put labels that identify literary coffins of books that were never written. An easy starter set is Bill’s notes from Paul. This could be the kernel of a future book. Or maybe Pam and Bill would want…

Another box would hold Bob’s rock data.

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