On occasion I dream of my grandparents. I don’t know whether it’s actually them or just a trick of the subconscious, but there’s always this sense of gladness to be able to see them that eventually dissipates when realising it’s a dream. They’re the only dreams I remember these days though.
The fever I had over the weekend provided fertile ground as always for crazy, rarebit fiend* type of dreams though.
*Sidenote: I’d love to own collections of Windsor McCay’s work, particularly the Little Nemo series. Bill Watterson was absolutely right when he wrote that newspaper comic strips worked better with the advantage of pages and pages of comics, allowing comic strip artists a much bigger playpen. We were lucky to have Calvin and Hobbes for as long as we did.