Dreamed last night that Allen Ginsberg came for a brief residency. I was supposed to work with him on a play. But I really hadn't done anything towards it. I was saying, oh, after I've finished teaching...after I've finished this, and that.... but I assumed he was doing it on his own anyway because he hadn't noticed or interacted with me at all. The environment was more like a high school, we were standing around in formations outside. School colleagues were asking me about it, saying what a great opportunity this was for my career. I thought perhaps I'd better get on with it, try to catch his attention. Ginsberg was old, fat, crusty but also quite deep-voiced and heterosexual. Eventually he looked at me and I thought maybe I had a reason to start writing but at that point I realised that my dream was wrong, that the real Ginsberg was gay and had a fairly high-pitched voice.