I dreamed I was in San Francisco at a very good wine tasting event.
After a while I noticed the woman sitting to the left of me was historian Heather Cox Richardson.
(For those who don't know, she's based in New England and her main subject is 19th century US history, but in the Trump regime era has stepped up to do an astounding series of daily news summaries "Letters from an American", seen on substack, podcasts, YouTube, and other social media, as well as various livecasts and interviews. Check it out if you're not already familiar.)
I said, "Oh, Professor Richardson, I admire your work." We had a few sentences of small talk and I introduced myself, she said she was familiar with something I had done (unlikely as our fields don't have much overlap).
The next day in San Francisco I went to see a notoriously outré bohemian parade. There were strange music bands playing Dr. Seuss type instruments, and bizarre costumed paraders. One colorful costumer was walking on high stilts shaped like grasshopper legs, wearing a costume with a grotesque mask and a comical fluffy pink crinoline skirt. To my surprise I recognized the costumer as Heather Cox Richardson. (From what I know, this seems very unlike anything HCR would do in real life.). In my dream "logic", no one who hadn't met her in person would have recognized her. I pointed at her and waved. She winked at me and paraded on.
After a while I noticed the woman sitting to the left of me was historian Heather Cox Richardson.
(For those who don't know, she's based in New England and her main subject is 19th century US history, but in the Trump regime era has stepped up to do an astounding series of daily news summaries "Letters from an American", seen on substack, podcasts, YouTube, and other social media, as well as various livecasts and interviews. Check it out if you're not already familiar.)
I said, "Oh, Professor Richardson, I admire your work." We had a few sentences of small talk and I introduced myself, she said she was familiar with something I had done (unlikely as our fields don't have much overlap).
The next day in San Francisco I went to see a notoriously outré bohemian parade. There were strange music bands playing Dr. Seuss type instruments, and bizarre costumed paraders. One colorful costumer was walking on high stilts shaped like grasshopper legs, wearing a costume with a grotesque mask and a comical fluffy pink crinoline skirt. To my surprise I recognized the costumer as Heather Cox Richardson. (From what I know, this seems very unlike anything HCR would do in real life.). In my dream "logic", no one who hadn't met her in person would have recognized her. I pointed at her and waved. She winked at me and paraded on.