Dreams are so amazing. It's so fun when you remember long, weird ones. I have three favorites from last year. In one, Dexter was living in my garden shed, only he was always wearing pink sparkly boots. He told me, "I'm gonna use your shed for a while, okay?" and I said, "Sure. I love the show," and he said, "What are you talking about?" In the dream I got nervous and said, "Nothing," thinking, "He doesn't know we know!" Another dream had to do with my garden. I dreamed that Chris Hemsworth as Thor and an animated Nancy Drew were stealing zucchini from my garden in the middle of the night. When I caught them, Nancy locked herself in my shed, but Chris ran around my yard and couldn't figure out how to get out of the privacy fence. (Really? Thor couldn't get over a fence? The Avengers are in trouble!). He started to cry and begged me not to call the police. He offered to write me a poem. I'm disappointed with my dream self for rejecting his offer.
My third favorite dream was of Erica, on my marketing team at HarperCollins. I showed up at her office and she was wearing a full body kitten suit, complete with whiskers drawn on her face. She said she wore it when she was sad and it always cheered her up. She offered to let me borrow it.
The show that always got dreams just right, and really captured their disjointed time-jumps and absurdity? The Sopranos.