And so . . . I left a big scary face on the woman's desk. She wasn't in her office, so I left the flyer there, waiting, staring . . .
Last night I dreamt I was in an elevator with Neil Gaiman (who would probably have been in a lift). The thing got stuck and we had a few nervous moments of listening to it creak and moan before the cable snapped and we plummeted eleven storeys.
We actually survived, although Gaiman was very quiet from then on. I left and went to my high school where I was barely in time for some class. But my teachers, a pair of large women with cunning faces and old grey robes, told me I was too dirty from the accident, and told me to go home and take a shower.
On my way, a girl wearing an enormous yellow wig and a red cheerleader uniform jumped on my back. She laughed in my ear as I kind of staggered, and she said, "Remember me?"
My mind automatically started running through the names and faces of every girl I'd known in high school, but I never precisely pinned down her identity. Looking back, her costume was reminiscent of Karen from Street Fighter: Alpha.
Anyway, I told her I had to go home and shower. She whispered wickedly; "Let's go together!"
But then I was suddenly home--although it didn't resemble any home I've had in waking life--and she was gone. I was watching a cheap movie made in the mid-1980s. It starred Ian McKellen and Andrew McCarthy and had a soundtrack by Howard Shore. I remember thinking it wasn't very good.