I had a bizarre dream that Muammar Gaddafi spent the night at my house. He slept on the futon, so my eldest had to sleep on the couch. He wasn’t there by my invitation, and I didn’t appear to have a choice in the matter, either. I wasn’t afraid of him (after all, I tend to be quite the bad@ss in my dreams), but I was not able to sleep because of concerns that our house would get bombed by people coming after him. Weird.