Years ago I had a creative writing student who was a heavy dreamer. Every morning she would spend at least an hour writing her dreams down in a 3-ring binder—and she had filled dozens of them. Everyone in the class was amazed that she could remember her dreams in such detail.Recently I was in the middle of a dream about designing a painting machine for Barack Obama when John woke me up with my morning tea. I rolled over and the dream evaporated. Yes, I know I’m spoiled with the morning tea thing, but I still wish I’d been able to find out what Obama’s painting machine really involved. Then again, maybe I was just dreaming about Photoshop…












