The turtle on my desk

The muse propelling me forward on my current novel crept into my dream last night to make sure I don't lose momentum ...

I dreamt I called my agent to talk to her about the new novel I'm working on, and she gave me this whole pep talk about how I shouldn't worry about what she thought or how marketable it was or any of that. I should concentrate on writing it and forget about her. Then she joked, "In fact, this is a wrong number. Forget you even called me. Get back to work." I laughed and said good-bye, delighted and surprised by her attitude.

Then I went into my office to discover that the giant turtle we have as a pet was sitting in the middle of my desk, where my computer usually is. (In real life we have no such pet, but in the dream he was like a fixture in the house we largely ignored.) I wanted to just lift him off and put him on the floor where he belonged so I could get to work, but he had crawled out of his shell and I found him too icky to move. So I called for my husband to get him off the desk for me.

That's it. Don't think I need Sigmund Freud to interpret this one.