I don't sleep so I don't dream so I don't wake up scared

Or at least usually I don't dream. Rather, I am assured I dream, but I have no evidence to support this.
The few times I have, (About five times since I was 21) usually the dreams involve being responsible for a group of people who are being killed one by one. Dreams of despair, failure, frustration, incompetence. But usually I never feel personally endangered.
This morning was different. I'd witnessed a botched assassination, which had a higher body count than planned, and whoever had done the job (possibly the government) was tracking me down.
Somehow I knew they'd started contacting places like my grocery store, trying to find out where I lived or other information.
I told my housemate to get the hell out, and that I was going on the road. I called my Dad, and he seemed amused and unworried (a stereotypical Dad reaction) and so I hung up, gave up, and ran upstairs to frantically poke at my room, trying to figure out what I absolutely needed.
Then the stereo alarm came on. The past few days, I've had a PWEI album in there, and that kicks me into coherence. I think it's probably a good thing that yesterday I was listening to the Xians/Pagans double disc I had Jon make for me, on the more quiet, meditative 'Xians' CD.
Despite the gentler transition between awake and asleep (a transition I invariably hate making) I feel like crap. Hopefully this will only taint the first few hours of the day and by noonish I'll be back to normal.

Everybody got their Black&Decker, blood and fettucine everywhere

I've been reading Lance's journal some more the past few days, and he invited me (Well, technically he invited the universal case Faithful Reader) to tell him when I (s/I/reader/) met Rich Dansky.
So, Lance, it was... Lord. At least five years ago, on a place called DragonMUD. Rich and I hung out there and for the longest time I didn't know anything about what he did for a living. And last fall, at OryCon, I met him in person when he was invited to chair a couple of panels.

I also promised myself I'd say more about the stuff that I've been reading, apart from 'yeah, it's cool', which strikes me as the last refuge of the unrepentantly lame.
The Sheep Look Up. John Brunner wrote this, quite some time back. This, he said, this you stupid yutzes, is what's going to happen if you don't get your heads on straight. It's written in a kaleidoscopic style, flitting from scene to scene and slowly draws a web between initially unrelated characters. There were times, reading this, that I hated Brunner. But I never stopped reading.
How to Attract the Wombat. Will Cuppy's book, which apparently after I spent years trying to find a copy has gone into a new printing. It reads a lot like his other books--dry rather brittle humour with a sideways cant. It was certainly nice to occasionally pick this up when 'Sheep' got overwhelming.
Like Water for Chocolate. Rereading this was an antidote to the despair and hopelessness I'd been feeling. It's warm and intimate and it's all about that 'magical realism' stuff that I love so much.
Hellboy--Conqueror Worm isn't available on Amazon yet, so no hyperlink. However, they do have several copies of other stories which I can fannishly recommend. (He's on my Links page, and I adore him.) The new installment has everything you could ask for--evil Nazis, the golem, Doctor-Moreau-style apes, and of course Lobster Johnson.
Top Ten has its first graphic novel out. I'm not the only one who likens it to 'Hill Street Blues with superheroes'. Alan Moore has a gift for writing characters, and for engaging storylines. It's amazingly cool. If your comic store doesn't carry it, strike the owner with a dead porcupine and ask why the hell not.
New in the backpack--more Hellboy. Odd Jobs.