This morning I had a dream that I was in a room with a group of strangers. The man sitting next to me was telling me jokes about David Bowie. I couldn't remember who David Bowie was, so I smiled and laughed politely when it seemed appropriate. Then everyone began to share personal anecdotes about Kurt Vonnegut. When it was my turn to speak I said that I hadn't actually known him, and everyone assumed I was making some deeply existential statement about how you can never really know a person. Then I woke up.

It was very odd.