My good friend, Dyno, who has been a part of me ever since I can remember, featured in my dream last night.

The details now are very choppy, but it included a sequence where I woke up, got out of bed and actually believed that it all really happened.

In my dream, he was a book writer. And he taught creative writing at some kind of institute where he actually wore a suit. In my dream, I received a package of three books, one an autobiography, the others fiction. The autobiography was about his decade of traveling the world trying to beat alcoholism (why would I be making this up?), and in the cover, which was blue, it had a grainy picture of him sitting on top of a giant mailbox, smiling like a kid.

The two pieces of fiction were far more interesting. The first, older and thinner, publication was about a district attorney solving a big embezzlement scam of some sort, of course it was more cerebral than that. It seems that in that first novel, he found his niche: white-collar crime fiction.

So his second novel, which, if I remember correctly, was entitled "Buzz", was about how PR companies are co-opting issues, paying for favorable legislature, and how yet another district attorney cracks the case. The book was more than two inches thick, had a brown glossy cover, and pages after pages of critical praise. I think the big tada moment was how the protagonist uncovers the fact that PR companies are actually rigging the financial markets with their influence.

I remember reading the blurbs, being overwhelmed, calling Dyno and congratulating him, and having that feeling of being a proud friend.

Dyno is not a novelist in real life. But, that doesn't make me any less proud. He doesn't drink either.