Todd's Mischief Blog

Author's note: I dream every night. I don't know if that's common or not. I've heard many people report that they seldom or never dream. (I've heard it's a bad sign to never dream, but perhaps they merely mean they "never" dream.) Most of my dreams fade as soon as I wake up, and most of the ones that linger don't particularly deserve to. But I have a handful of dreams that stay with me after years and years. This dream is not one of them. This one I had last night. Maybe I should jot down some of the other ones, too. In my dream, I was reading a book. Or rather, I was following along in a book as the book's author read it to a group of us in a classroom setting. (I can't say if I was my younger self or just happened to be in a classroom.) I remember, I had barely made it to the reading on time, having decided at the last minute to forgo a stop for ice cream.  The book was a very slim volume, and the author was proud of that. The exact title...

Years ago — like, back when the show was on — I had a dream that was basically a Star Trek: TNG b-storyline.  A bunch of the crew have to attend some diplomatic function on Klingon. So obviously Worf is along. Data is there to explain shit. A couple others. And key to the story, Riker. They get there during some weird Klingon festival (but I repeat myself). They've got this feast where they bring out all the most nasty, vile Klingon dishes as a show of gustatory toughness. It's great fun. Now, this stuff is supposed to be rough for Klingons. So you can bet the Enterprise crew is turning green at all this nastiness. Even Data has some technobabble about how his nutrient processing system wasn't designed for this shit. Then the Klingon top chef brings out the pièce de résistance. The Klingons are positively yakking at this garbage. Some won't even touch it. The plate goes around and passes in front of the Enterprise crew, to much anguished groaning. Riker has been holding...