Counting last night, I have now had at least two dreams about a bad, disappointing sequel to The Instructions, my favorite novel.  It was the same sequel, too – everything I remember about it was consistent between the two dreams.

I’m glad this book doesn’t exist in reality, but apparently it exists now in my dreamscape (along with the endlessly recurring postulate that I decide to take time off grad school to re-enroll in either college or high school and am humiliatingly unable to explain this decision at the time any given dream narrative begins).