I don’t know if I almost never have dreams, or if I simply never remember the dreams I have. Seems like the latter is more likely. When I do manage to remember one, it feels like a special event, even when the dream is stupid, like the one I had last night.
While every other red-blooded male was tucked cozily in his bed dreaming of wardrobe malfunctions at the upcoming Victoria’s Secret fashion show, I was having visions of attending a party with my brother-in-law Kevin. We were sitting in plastic lawn chairs in someone’s living room, and sitting across from us was Kevin Rose and some other guy I didn’t recognize. I asked Kevin R. what it was like to be the brunt of negative criticism when you’re such a high profile figure in the tech world. Just after the question left my lips, someone came up behind Kevin and whispered in his ear, and he got up and left. The end.
What, Steve Jobs couldn’t even have made an appearance? Welcome to my inner life.