I dreamed I was dating Jamie Fraser. He brought me a haunch of venison to roast over the fire. After dinner I went to load the dishwasher and a red wasp flew out of it right at my face. I ducked and ran and decided the dishes could wait.
Then I went to a basketball game where Jamie's nephew, who was smaller than the other players, showed that he was just as good, so they stopped teasing him and respected him, just like a feel-good kid's movie.
After that, I played mahjong with Jamie's female relatives, who included Maggie Smith. We played by placing bottle caps and tiny basketballs and bottles of orange and pogs with different soda logos onto a map of america. Maine was a real coupe because it was divided into four regions that could score together, as well as ferry connections to the rest of New England. But you had to establish a claim to it just right or you'd get trapped there.
Then we all moved out to a remote, forested island, and built a play ground for the children, and I road the bright red merry-go-round with Jamie's cousin's little girl. And then I woke up.
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