The last dream I had in 2008 (one year ago today) was that I was riding in a spaceship with a man who wrote an introduction to one of Harold Bloom's books. We were flying over an arctic wasteland. The writer used some kind of oxygen spray to breathe and the rest of us had breathing attachments in our mouths. I was familiar with the writer's introduction and what he wrote of the region.

Then Chris and I checked into a hotel and asked if Harold Bloom checked in yet. He had, but refused the suite for a simpler room instead. This was consistent with his book. It was 10:49. I was worried that breakfast would end in a minute. We made arrangements with HB to meet us for lunch before the 11:30 wedding we were to attend. I still had to get ready for the wedding.