The night before last, I dreamt I was a sharkbrained at-peace yuppie businessman hired to run security at a deceptively huge casino-hotel with a small built-in shopping center in a town between a bay and low green mountains. The owner was rich and self-amusingly eccentric. I made romantic-friends with a blond woman, softer side of bird slender, with paigeboy haircut. I asked her, eventually, if she'd been hired for me, no offense on any level and little more than curiousity. She responds, "No, they just told me you were pretty" and smiles as we enter the elevator. The other details are surprisingly technical and deal with me feeling out the floorplans and improving security hundredfolds. And watching the video about what happened to the last security manager, a samson-haired body-builder type who turned out to be Hulk-like without the rage and stupidity who nevertheless went passion-mad for a visiting over-sized macro-musclebound crimson-skin shewarrior super. Turns out, being full of radiation and attempting to love a hot-blooded transformed alien warrior princess can cause a huge explosion that requires a good deal of city to be repaired or replaced and a new bridge erected.

Last night, I dreamt through the filter of old Mage rules and the problems with having low sphere ratings across the board, the strange necessity of bizarre combinations. Bacterial-supercharged expansionist brain with self-correcting reverse-entropy thought patterns? Awesome. Running a baseball team? Unexpected. I did heal a beautiful shimmer-blue butterfly that had been hit by a ball. Now I want to play the game and not baseball. Give me a battery and I'll make a million bucks. And swim in quintessence.