My moods and my dreams have been affected lately by my allergies. In addition, I started reading The Historian, a novel about searching into the past for details about the historical ruler Vlad the Impaler, aka Dracula. The book incorporates real-life modern vampires, so it gets a bit spooky at times. In a bizarre dream last night, I was dead, or at least semi-dead. I was laid out atop a medieval stone slab in some sort of crypt, the kind of tomb that is topped by carved effigies of those buried beneath. In the dream, instead of carved figures, I was lying on the stone structure in the midst of a cluster of my own long-dead relatives. Periodically we would get up, walk around, talk among ourselves, or even make comments about the mourners who came to visit us. Even more strange, we were in some kind of “theme park” cemetery along the lines of Forest Lawn in Los Angeles, and the burial chambers were fixed to a kind of elevator device that would carry us upward to be displayed among the living, then rotated back down beneath the earth. I have to admit, it was original. I also need to stop reading scary books before bedtime.