Tender is the NIght

I dreamt about F.Scott Fitzgerald last night.  He invited a bunch of us into his NYC apartment where we hung out. I found out during this visit that he was a working alcoholic, a fact which my co-visitors used to dis him.  But I don't judge things like that.  I mean, God knows, right?  He seemed anxious to meet me, "Bathsheba," he said, "I KNEW you were a writer!"  We liked everything about each other mostly that we WERE writers and IF YOU ARE A WRITER, YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT.  I admired his apple green hallway, which was EXACTLY like mine in real time.  He asked me to go for a five mile jog with him the next morning at 8 and it says how much I enjoyed his company that I agreed to an act that would probably leave me by the side of the road retching. I don't know why I dreamt of F. Scott Fitzgerald last night except that yesterday I finished reading a manuscript that was the work of a real writer.  Have you ever had that tingling feeling of reading something and thinking, OMG, this is really really GOOD.  This person not only can write, but he has something to SAY?  Stay tuned.