Dreaming in Literature: Hanging with Carly and Nora

This was the kind of dream that you wish could be recurring; not like the one in which you're late for school or a test or a job interview or work or your wedding and all you've got to wear is a burnt-orange half-slip. If you pull it up, your bottom is exposed and if you cover your bottom, your top shelf swings in the vigorous breeze made by people laughing and pointing.

No, this was a wonderful dream:

I was invited to a book group in New York City. I didn't know anyone, but I went anyway. At my knock, the door opened and Carly Simon was smiling hello and asking me to come in. Then I saw Nora Ephron and she offered to get me a drink. Then Nora and Carly side-hugged me at the same time, saying they were glad I had made it all the way from Missouri, was it? They smelled of expensive perfume, but also of a perfect day at the beach. We were entering a book-lined room when I woke up.

Damn.