Writing
Sandman broke all my responses to nightmares. I mean, I know I'm meant to be troubled by them, they're nightmares after all, but for years I'd wake so thrilled by nightmares that they became more and more infrequent, and you could almost hear them grumbling backstage as I woke up -- "I dunno what's wrong, I'm losing it, I did the whole corpse-with-a-knife coming at him bit, and he starts screaming 'This is so cool, I can use this!' I'm gutted, it's just awful, I'm losing it." "Nah, you're great, Oswald, you're still the best, it's
him."
So this is just to say that I had a nightmare and awoke going "wow, now
that was amazing!": a strange and intricately plotted story, involving at one point, the projectile vomiting of an enormous number of worms, and towards the end, a murderous identity-swap with an alien demon.
And I thought I'd check e-mail before going back to sleep. So a hasty hello from a darkened French hotel room.
