Category Archives: dreams

Fanmail: Apocalypse Wow

Mr. Rothfuss,

Last night I had the most kick-ass dream that I was living through the zombie apocalypse. In my dream, I saved Oot from zombies and brought him back to my house. Since it was the apocalypse, and night was coming, I was prepared to look after him indefinitely.

But just as the sun was setting, you knocked on my door. You had run across several states (in a mere evening), and you were shaggy, but gloriously so. You imperiously held out your hand, I returned Oot to you, and then you turned around and the two of you marched off into the sunset. The experience of being in your presence left me invincible against zombies for several days.

Needless to say, I was rather angry when I was woken up.

On a different note, if I were actually living through a zombie apocalypse, your books would be in my survival kit.

That is all,

Audrey

*     *     *

My name is Patrick Rothfuss, and I approve this message.

through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered....

P.S. Thanks for taking care of Oot for me.

That is all,

pat

Also posted in fanmail, I Am Your Spirit Animal, Nathan Taylor Art | By Pat36 Responses

Living a life of the mind

So the other day I’m in the car with Sarah, and I say, “Last night I had a dream where Nathan Fillion was teaching my dad how to use the computer.”

In order for you to appreciate this, I should mention that I don’t usually remember my dreams. Sarah does. She has a vivid dream life. Crazy dreams. Every night.

So I’m thinking that Sarah will be impressed. Not only did I remember this dream, but you have to admit it’s reasonably weird. Plus it has Nathan Fillion in it, which shows that my internal casting director is finally getting a decent budget to work with.

So I summarize my dream for Sarah. There isn’t much more to it other than the fact that Nathan Fillion was teaching my Dad some of the finer points of computer programming. Except, perhaps, to mention that Fillion was quite gracious about the whole thing, and was willing to come out to our house in order to make things more convenient for my dad.

When I finish, I expect Sarah to say something appreciative. Something like, “Wow,” or “Freaky,” or “You’ve really got to get over Firefly.”

But instead, without missing a beat, Sarah says, “I had a dream where I was going to marry Nathan Fillion, but I was really nervous because he had a horrible addiction to hobby farming. He was working really hard to overcome it, but I knew he was probably going to relapse pretty soon.

She shrugged. “Still, I was going to help him get through it. I knew I’d stay by his side no matter what. Very loyal of me. I think there were sheep involved.

And the winner is….

She’s all mine, boys. Stay away…

pat

Also posted in BJ Hiorns Art, Firefly, Sarah | By Pat54 Responses

“While I’m alone and blue as can be…”

I don’t dream often. I’ve never had the “show up naked at work” dream. Or the “I didn’t study for the test” dream. I’ve never had sex dreams, not even when I was teenage and sloshy with hormones.

My ha’penny theory is that I don’t dream much because I don’t have many inhibitions, so my brain doesn’t need to let off much steam when it’s on vacation. Another theory is that I don’t have much separation between my conscious and my subconscious minds.

Either way, last night was the exception to the rule, because last night I had a dream.

I was in a classroom, similar to the room where I used to take physics in high school. The room was full, two people sitting at each of the large, black worktables, and there was someone teachery up at the front.

It wasn’t high-school, or college, but it was definitely a class of some kind, and I was definitely one of the students.

The teacher never said anything, not through the whole dream. He/she was just a faceless presence at the front of the room. Everyone knew what was expected. We were going to be reading our stories aloud to the rest of the class.

I wasn’t anxious. If anything, I was a little smug because I was going to read from The Name of the Wind. And, all Midwestern modesty aside, I think the book is pretty awesome. This was my chance to be cool in front of the other students.

I’m first. I don’t go up to the front of the room, it’s not that formal. I just and turn so I can face most of the class and pull out the hardcover. I’m excited with that slight sweaty-palm feeling I always get before a performance.

I start to read, but some of the words are hard to see because they’re caught in the middle of the book where the pages come together in the binding. I lose my place once or twice, make a mistake, and start to sweat as people start to move around in their seats, bored and embarrassed on my behalf.

Then the lights start to get dim so I can’t see the text on the page. But I know I can’t stop reading. I only get this one chance. Either nobody else notices the lights dimming, or they consider it part of the reading. Either way I know that it’s no excuse to stop. By now I can’t see any of the words. I’m having to fake it and things are a real mess.

At this point, I have some sort of seizure. I literally fall down on the ground and foam at the mouth. From the strange semi-detached perspective of the dream, it’s actually something of a relief, because now I don’t have to keep doing my sucky reading.

I’m not clear whether it was a real seizure. It’s not that I don’t remember what happened in the dream. It’s that the dream itself it was ambiguous. Was it real? Did I fake it so that I didn’t have to keep reading? Was it real but I hammed it up so that people would feel sorry for me? I really didn’t know.

The paramedics come and take care of me, and everyone admits that it wasn’t really my fault that I had to stop reading. Understandably, I’m glad it’s all over.

Then everyone starts writing out their evaluations and passing them to the front of the class. And somehow I can see what everyone is writing. Most people are giving me A’s, but some people are giving me B’s or C’s. Then, I see the worst thing…. someone has given me…. a C-.

I’m laughing now as I write about it. That was the big reveal. My book got a C-. But you know how it is in dreams. At that moment, I was profoundly ensaddened and hurty inside. It was like every teenage angst of my life distilled down into one powerful, emblematic event.

And then I realize that I’m not wearing any pants.

Seriously. I’m not making any of this up. I don’t know if I’ve been missing my pants this whole time, or if perhaps the paramedics have taken them off as part of some innovative attempt to revive me. All I know is that I’m still wearing my t-shirt, but I’m totally nude below the waist. It’s not a very long t-shirt either, just barely halfway covering all of my dangerous man-stuff.

Worst of all, nobody has noticed, and I know that if I could just somehow get out of the room, I’d be safe. But I’m in the middle of the classroom and there doesn’t seem to be any way to leave without drawing attention to myself….

And that’s the end of the dream. I didn’t wake up in a cold sweat or anything. I actually forgot about everything until I was in the shower.

So… yeah. Welcome to the inside of my head.

Personally, I think the whole thing was brought about by the fact that yesterday, despite my better judgement, I read the pair of two-star reviews that showed up recently on amazon. I know that I should be over that sort of thing by now, but… well… apparently I’m not.

Plus, all I had for dinner yesterday was a bunch of bowling-alley nachos and a huge chocolate chip cookie. I will admit to actually dipping the cookie in the cheese at one point. I’m guessing that’s what caused it. That sort of behavior is bound to anger the gods.

Later folks,

pat

Also posted in the man behind the curtain | By Pat38 Responses
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