Yesterday I was talking about the dreams of clerkmanifesto. And it was all very fun and merry and I got to show amusing pictures of Big Bird going shopping for books, and then I thought that was done and dusted.
But then I went to sleep and dreamed of clerkmanifesto!
If only it had been an interesting dream. What a blogpost this would be!
And it's not like I'm keeping my dream from you. I barely remember it anymore. Though I think it had to do with trying to remember an idea I had for a clerkmanifesto blog post.
Yes, that was it. I am writing a blogpost about dreaming of a blogpost that's about dreaming of a blogpost for clerkmanifesto.
It's turtles all the way down.
Paul McCartney often tells the story of dreaming the tune for Yesterday, except he called it Scrambled Eggs at first. I dreamed an idea for a blogpost. It is, apparently, this one. It's the only thing that makes sense.
This causes you to ask:
Are dreams the product of some strange and magnificent intelligence of some mysterious nature,
are they merely their own kind of AI, plagiarizing our experiences, and then struggling unknowing to try to put them into any order that seems plausible?