Quick, very short update on my insane dream situation. Saturday night's dreams were shaped by a strong dose of Nyquil (I have a cold), and were brought to you by the letter L.

Dream #1: I am rehearsing the Mass of the Children, by John Rutter, just like I did in real life back in October, except that instead of being the baritone soloist, I am the conductor.

And have not prepared at all. (Hardly surprising, really.)

So there I am, trying to round an orchestra and massive choir, including a group of 30-40 small children, into shape, and I'm bollixing up meters and tempos and basically screwing the whole thing up irredeemably. After a while, one of the older children takes the baton from me and banishes me to the front row while he conducts the piece perfectly.

Dream #2: I am in Las Vegas with my wife, on a Sunday. Why I am there, I don't know. But we are scheduled to fly back home Sunday evening, but I haven't had time to do any gambling. This is unacceptable.

Luckily, just then Milo shows up (I don't know why he was there either), and it turns out he has an extra plane ticket for a flight back MONDAY night! Sweet! So we stay.

Those of you who are mathematics majors have probably noticed that my wife and I consist of two people, and yet Milo only has the one extra ticket. This does not occur to us until WHOOM the dream shifts to the next morning, and suddenly we realize that HW has no means of getting home. (In reality, I think we all know that HW would have taken the flight home with Milo, and my ass would have been hitchhiking east, but in the dream, that didn't occur to me.)

We frantically try and figure out a way to come up with the money to buy Sarah a short-notice flight home, while still leaving enough cash to gamble a good bit and not go too far into debt, and then I wake up 'cause one of my cats farted on my face.

What does it all MEAN, sports fans? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?