I got my first shipment of copies of Radicals and Royalists today. I spent last night tormented—tormented—by anxiety and paranoia that there was going to be something massively, massively wrong with them: the page numbers screwed up again, an embarrassing typo in the acknowledgements thanking my editors, or the cover all wrong.
Everything is fine. (I’m still working on formatting it for Kindle, by the way.)
Sometimes my dreams make no sense, and sometimes I can pinpoint exactly what had burrowed into my subconscious to make me dream the things I dreamed. And last night these worries manifested themselves quite strongly in three distinct dreams.
1. I had a dream that I woke up at 10:30 a.m., missing the first deadline for my daily assignments and had to call my day-job editor to apologize and explain.
2. I had a dream I was at a party, and eventually I found myself sitting in a booth of a restaurant with Julia Roberts (no idea why, I’ve never been a fan), and we were talking about the futility of her celebrity life. But during this conversation, all I could think about was how my coat was missing from a rack of others, and that someone else at the party must have taken mine by accident, and it was winter outside, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get back to my car and get home without freezing to death and/or getting attacked by ruffians in an alleyway. Everyone else went home before I could find my coat and/or bum a ride.
3. Then I had a dream where I was taking a road trip through the desert, and I stopped by this bridge to climb down into a ravine to see if there was a rest stop down there (????). Some old trucker/prospector-looking man was there with me—he wasn’t driving with me, he just happened to stop there at the same time. When we climbed back up, to the road, having failed to find a rest stop down in a ravine, I saw that a gas station had spontaneously materialized next to where I’d parked my car. Coming closer, I saw that my car’s passenger door was open. I got into my car and looked through my stuff, and I grabbed my wallet out of my purse with a feeling of dread and saw that it was completely empty—no cards, no ID, no cash. I was just starting my freak out and wonder if I could use the phone in the gas station to report the theft when I woke up. I think God knew that’s all I could handle.