Mike in dreamland

[elisem.livejournal.com]

I was sorting through some old LJ entries today, looking for a link to a photo, and ran across this post about a dream I'd had about Mike. (I'll link rather than copy, because the comments on the original post contains a link to a dream somebody else had about Mike.)

Did he show up in your dreams? A number of people told me they dreamed about him being at conventions, chatting.

Comments

[aitchellsee.livejournal.com]

Once, I think, in a dream that I mentioned to you in a post at the time (within the last year? earlier? can't access the mental index right now).

But this seems like a handy place to mention that, having misplaced or lost my earlier copy, I just got a very nice pristine first-edition of The Last Hot Time in an acetate keep-clean thingie, from a dealer in TX, and I plan to take much better care of it.

Oddly enough, I had it with me in my big black InterCon totebag while in the presence of its Editor at a Whisperado gig the other night -- only until I got it home and unwrapped it, I hadn't realized that she was. ;-)

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Yah, he did.

[abostick59.livejournal.com]

Posthumously? Here's one from 2007

4-16-2007

It's some sort of complicated magical rescue of people who have been taken prisoner by a demonic organization of enemies. The people being rescued are, while my spell is working, invisible, in another plane of existence, while I try to walk them out of the enemy organization's headquarters. I am magically disguised so that no one suspects I am really a wizard. The demons are more powerful than I am, but since they don't know I'm a wizard, they are more interested in teasing and humiliating me, in chasing me from the premises, than they are in defeating me. They aren't aware of the rescue I am conducting.

A few more steps and we will be free. When I cross the line into freedom, though, the spell of concealment no longer works. I am in the real world, not the realm of magic. The rescuees appear, and scatter. The demons see me for what I really am. I am pinned against a wall. I draw my sword, they draw theirs. I am outnumbered and an unlikely to escape; but now it doesn't matter. I have accomplished my mission.

The scene shifts in a dreamlike way, and I'm telling the story of the action to some other people, including Mike Ford. Mike makes a comment about taking the rescuees to Memory Largo, which is supposed to be some sort of joke reference to Memory Alpha from Star Trek. I turn away from the people to the mantel I am standing beside. In the otherwise empty hearth are a dozen small glasses, standing in two rows, from which people had been drinking wine.

The scene shifts again. I am facing the demons; but their weapons are now blog comments, as are mine. Their weapons are actually old blog comments of mine, being used against me as evidence of my perfidy; but I have actually been careful in what I have been saying, and they add up to a consistent message that works to my advantage. If I say the right thing in my next comment, I can walk away unscathed. I carefully compose the comment, inserting URLs to refer to previous comments that I know my opponents are waiting to use against me.

Mike showed up in my dreams from time to time before he died. Something like ten or fifteen years ago, well before his transplant, when his health was really dicey, I had a dream about carrying him in my arms while wading out into the ocean, with the intent of letting him drown. In this dream he wanted to die, but was incapable of doing it himself. Tears were streaming down my cheeks; I really didn't want to be doing this, but he had asked me, and there you go.

[womzilla.livejournal.com]

As far as I know, I've never seen Mike in a dream.

Shortly after her death, Jenna Felice showed up in a dream explaining that she was sorry that she didn't get to say goodbye to more people, but she'd do what she could in dreams; however, she couldn't do it very often, so it might be a long time before she did it again.

[elisem.livejournal.com]

I like that a lot.

Several people told me that in their dreams about seeing Mike, he'd be at a convention, and either ask them to take him to me, or ask how I was doing, or say that he was sorry he hadn't been able to say goodbye but that he was looking in on me and everybody he cared about. When it got to the third or fourth person, I just kind of laughed a little and cried a little all at the same time, you know?