From My Dream Diary: Neil Gaiman, Mr. Sandman

Neil Gaiman
Photo from Wikipedia

So I just woke up, groggily typing away everything I remembered.


I dreamt about Neil Gaiman. Strange.

I can’t totally remember all the setting but the later part of my dream was set in my house, particularly, my room. There was some incident involving torture in which both Neil and I were the victims. There’s this interrogation type of a room with at least 5 strangers monitoring my reactions (we didn’t get tortured together apparently).

At least 3 people were touching my hands and arms, they seem to possess some sort of negative psychic powers that affected me physically. I felt my heartbeats fluctuate and felt actual pain in my chest. One had to go away as I couldn’t take the intensity.

I don’t know why we were tortured but I suppose we were rescued. The next scene was in my house. I was thinking I’ve got a connection with Neil Gainman now! We were practically buddies so I can ask him to sign all the Gaiman books I had! I was not a true fan girl of his but I do read almost everything so I do have a few. So I run to my bookshelves to try and find some of his books.

I found Neil looking at my book collection and I’m embarrassed because some of my sister’s romance pocketbooks were also there (we shared the room but she seldom goes home). I defensively mentioned that those particular books weren’t mine (and please don’t judge meeee!).

I managed to find only 2 books but I can’t remember which ones. I only remembered the second one was a non-existent book that’s really a compilation of different authors and artist. It was a large hardbound book with gold-leaf edges and a gold-colored first page (which I tore from nervousness in passing it to him). I figured, he drew something in there (as contributing artist) so it qualifies.

I think I managed to pull out more stuff but he had to leave and I woke up.

In reality, I only owned a few Gainman books. I’m interested in reading the Sandman graphic novels (although I’m not into graphic novels really) but nobody seem to want to lend me some.

So far, I’m not what you can call a true fan although I do admire his incredible imagination. The problem I think is that I have trouble relating with his characters.

I’ve read: Neverwhere, American Gods, some of Fragile Things, and the Graveyard Book (in audiobook). I’ve also read a few other short stories from other collections.



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