Game without a name

Saturday was mostly devoted to errands and chores. In the early evening, I did manage to tighten up chapter 13 of my novel, Make Nice. [40K PDF file] I had printed it out for my writing group the other day, and when I read it over it seemed a little slack. So I cut a couple of pages worth of slack.

Last night I had a remarkable dream. People were flocking to play a certain kind of role-playing game -- that's the best description, though I don't remember any details of how the game was played except that all it required was a pen and a pad of paper. When you played the game -- solo, or in pairs or small groups -- you were drawn in so completely that not only did the reality of the game completely take over your consciousness, but it was addictive, and people would spend days locked in the fantasy, emerging ecstatic and drenched in sweat. Clubs had formed around the game and rented lofts for people to go on missions, as it were. I was standoffish about it all because of the addictive aspect, but if I even went over there to talk to a friend, I found myself drawn in and becoming a character in the game. It was very compelling.

There was also a large dormitory where I was living, where you could climb around in secret passages or go down to the basement swimming pool on ladders, and which also was skyscraper-tall, and unfinished at the top, so you could climb around on a wooden superstructure. Perhaps that was a separate dream.