I AM NOT STALKING PAUL F. TOMPKINS

As soon as somebody starts a sentence with, "last night I had a dream that...", it's time to start ignoring that person. They've got nothing interesting left to say.

With that in mind, I've been having some odd dreams lately. The first involved me just sitting around reading a book called, "Big Freaking Deal: A Parent's Guide to Lowering a Child's Self Esteem." I've no idea what that's supposed to mean, but I know that somewhere buried in my subconscious is a best-selling book just waiting to get out.

But the stranger evening apparition involves Paul F. Tompkins. For those of you who don't know who Paul F. Tompkins, shame on you. He's a wildly talented stand up comic who has worked with the likes of the Mr. Show crew. Much of his live act is improvised, which is not an easy thing to do. I've seen him live a few times and have laughed so hard I nearly peed myself.

I don't know Paul F. Tompkins, though I've no doubt he's a lovely person spend time with.

But when I shut my eyes last night, I was holding an invitation to Mr. Tompkins' birthday party. I've no idea when his actual birthday is, but in this dream, it was on Thanksgiving Day. (This dream may be based on an actual experience where I scored an invite to Dave Foley's birthday party in 1999. Foley was a former Kid In The Hall. I couldn't go because I was out of town that weekend, but he told stories about the party the next week on the Tonight Show.)

Back to the PFT party... The invitation was printed on a sheet of copy paper and featured an itinerary for the day, and I must admit, it looked pretty lame. People were supposed to meet at his house at about 2:00 PM and start drinking (kind of a non-starter for me as I don't even drink). Then there was supposed to be some hanging around a pool and more drinking. The big highlight of the evening would come at 2:00 AM, when everyone went to a local Best Buy to wait in line for the Black Friday opening at 6.

In the dream, I'm trying to convince Julie that the party will be really cool and that hanging outside of a Best Buy at 2 in the morning with a bunch of drunk people is really fun. Julie counters (correctly) that I hate all of the things listed on the flier and therefore would have a terrible time at the party. I counter with some really sound logic like, "Yeah, but it's Paul F. Tompkins' birthday!"

I woke up truly puzzled by what this was all supposed to mean. Most theories these days say that dreams don't really mean anything and it's basically just your brain taking out the trash, and I'm inclined to agree. I'm just surprised something that odd was even lurking around there to be discarded.

But one thing is certain: this is the kind of post you get when you're 23 days into a 30 day writing project.