A few nights ago, in vivid, full motion living color, I dreamed I was in a small living room overlooking a street we once lived on. Two "new people" were attending a small introductory gathering. Sandwiched between two people, I was curled-up on a couch drifting in and out of sleep. When it was my turn, I stood-up and gave my best animated and impassioned satsang, waving my arms, hand gestures and all. Fortunatly, I can't remember a word I said.

The wierd part is that while I was asleep, I dreamed I was falling asleep and waking up again.

Like Mike Finch once said, "it steeps into your pours."