In stately Xanadu...

A raft of literary dreams haunted me last night. I wish I could've Coldridged back a few of the verses that I'd heard in the dreams. Strange poems about fandom and cannibals and the Brady Bunch. Yeah. Good stuff. I wonder what set off the language in my head. It's rare for me to have a dream so centered on talking and conversation. And even rarer for them to have rhyming couplets. It felt like somebody flipped a switch or I'd accessed a new part of my mind. Weird.