The other day I had this dream that's still bothering me. It goes like this (note: this is a real dream, I'm not making this up):

My mother has been to my apartment. She needed to use my iron for some reason. She was ironing a dress and she left my place before I got home. Oddly, she left the dress wrapped around the iron and it caught fire.

Meanwhile, I return home to a smoke-filled place, unplug the iron, put out the dress fire, and discover a letter from my landlord. I should probably point out that in real life, my landlord, who insists we call him "Clu" (which is not his name), is a bit of a kook. I think he did too many drugs back in the Summer of Love and just never got everything back. He lives out of town in Marin (just over the Golden Gate bridge for you folks who don't know) but has a little studio apartment underneath mine, tucked in next to the laundry room.

Anyway, back to my dream. He's written me this letter saying that he's suing me for $100,000 because he doesn't believe my job is real. The whole letter is very formal and very legal but it's written on a brown grocery bag in his little scrawl with a ballpoint pen. He goes on to accuse me of attending school instead of going to work. That I've secretly been going to UC Berkeley for art this whole time and that my job is a hoax.

As if to drive the point home, on the back of the bag he's drawn a little fake diploma, a B.S. in Art from UC Berkeley.

At least it wasn't like all my other dreams where things get violent...