Last night my head was filled with dreams of a Viable Paradise I didn't attend.
"Well, of course Greeks place their feathered antennas behind the TV sets. And Egyptians place them beside the TV. That's how you can tell when you're in a Greek's or Egyptian's home."
The same feelings were there, the rushed, hectic not really knowing what the hell I'm doing. The close camaraderie of the participants. The lectures that I think I know what is going on, but later wonder just what I had missed.
"It's all the same Armageddon, it's just that everybody sees their own version of it."
And this was a persistent dream, the kind you wake up from, roll over, and fall back into. So, one, besides remembering dreams, which doesn't always happen (although, with getting enough sleep, I know that I have been dreaming), and two, having the dream carry over between sleep sessions, it was a unique circumstance. The participants were all the same, with the addition of some other friends. The place, however, was an overly decorated Victorian Mansion with lots of overly glossed woodwork.
So I guess now I can now claim to have attended the uber-ultra-secret Viable Paradise seventh lecture.
And, because it makes me squee, picture of a Martian landslide.