Dreamt CW and I decided to form a new band, a serious band that was really going to make it this time. Maybe with a political bent. I thought the band should be called When or Now, but I didn’t have the chance to tell him.

A dream about supernatural events, including the presence in the bright, blue sky of a large cruise ship. It sparkled in the sun, meandering this way and that. JP was with me. We observed the ship and both knew it was somehow an omen of great things.

Dreamt I met Mark Webber and some other Formula 1 driver, maybe Jaime Alguersuari.

Dreamt I was working in a large, multistory building that had the open interior architecture of an airport or a shopping mall. There was a snack stand, a window on one wall. I stood in line for something. The man in front of me asked for and received codeine.

I fell into a reverie earlier this evening and dreamt that parts of words - not roots, not even syllables, but arrangements of letters, two or three at a time, the two Ts in "letters," for example, had meanings of their own.

Dreamt I took a long, complicated car ride to Las Vegas. I was there with Sara, Jake and some friends of Jake’s, some of whom I knew, some who I didn’t, or at least didn’t remember. One was handicapped somehow – a paraplegic, maybe, confined to a wheelchair. Jake organized everyone around a conference room table and had us read an epic poem. The poem consisted of dictionary definitions of selected words. I soon grew tired of the exercise and said so, got up, and left to go to a casino. I felt a bit guilty about abruptly ending the reading so I tried to be good-humored about it. Jake surmised that because I had left, I must have figured out what the poem was about. He spoke knowingly to me about it. All the defined words, it turns out, were related, and they formed the substance of the poem – it was about sex.

I was in a weird city - maybe just a weird version of New York City - hanging out with Larry David. Actually, I was hanging out with someone else, at a bar, and Larry strode in. I was immediately hyperconscious of his presence - I wanted to interact with him. I wanted him to want to interact with me. More than anything, I wanted to make him laugh.

I was telling a friend some joke about how funny it was that he felt like having a drink. Because he was in a bar! Get it? Here you are, wanting a drink, wanting a beer. A little down in the mouth. And you're in a bar. Ha!

I was speaking a little too loudly. Hoping Larry David would notice. And then he did. He smiled that crooked smile he has when he's amused and walked over.

I launched into a shtick about the travails of men, of gently aging men such as ourselves. I said that when a man peers into the abyss, really confronts the truth, what he sees - what he must come to terms with - is the increasing unlikelihood that any woman will want to have sex with him. That's despair! That's the darkness of the soul!

Larry David and I howled with laughter.