Whew. I think I must have had several anxiety dreams rolled up into one last night. Old bosses, old schools, old jobs, and probably the Writers of the Future awards ceremony in disguise. At least I got to sing "I'm a fake, ooooh, I'm a fake" to pretty glockenspiel music -- or at least I was going to, but I never got past the rehersal stage.
I think this is a step up from a dream the other night where I mapped various people I know to Freud's classic id, ego, superego paradigm (I think). Don't ask, you don't want to know.
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