A few weeks back I had an odd dream about the National Book Festival. It started out normally and just turned weird from there. I remember walking to the Mall from Union Station and entering one of the book sales tents. Completely normal. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Diana Gabaldon (whose book I was after) staring at me. Not so normal. Instead of feeling creeped out, I was kinda thrilled that DG saw me voraciously going after the table where her books were. Well, when I get there I notice that her newly release book, A Breath of Snow and Ashes, has the same cover as her last book, The Fiery Cross. Not only are the covers the same, they're all damaged in some way; either bumped, ripped, chipped, creased, folded, what have you, none of them are new. So, clearly, I'm miffed.
Somewhere in my head, I hear someone say, "Her publisher only released a few of the books with the right covers. You can buy one with the wrong cover, then send it in the the company and they will replaced it with a new dust jacket." Still miffed, but I wanted the book. So I dig and dig and dig and still can't find one of the few books with the appropriate cover. Meanwhile, this whole time DG is in my line of sight, watching me. Oddly enough, it still does not creep me out. I know that there is another book sales tent at the end of the Festival grounds so I live the one tent to head for it.
But, somehow, I wander off the Mall into this residential neighborhood. Why and how, I don't know. So, I find myself standing on this deck that overlooks this medium sized cliff the drops off into the rest of the neighborhood. Keep in mind that there are no cliffs in southeast DC. I see this ladder that drops off the deck, so I decide to climb down it and proceed on my way to the other end of the book festival. Half-way down the ladder I notice someone following me. It's not DG like I expect. Instead, it's Clive Cussler. How I knew it was Clive Cussler is beyond me. I've only read one of his books (Raise the Titanic) and have no idea what he looks like. But I knew it was him, and I knew I had to get away.
So I scramble down the ladder, run through this neighborhood and emerge on the Mall by the Lincoln Monument. The National Book Festival takes place between the Capitol building and the Washington Monument. I clearly had overshot my mark. For some reason this did not disgruntle me. I just trudge my way along the Mall (which lacks all its Monuments now) towards my goal.
I finally get there, after dodging vans (who knows why), and discover that the other book sales tent is underground. So I enter this staircase and it takes me another staircase and gift shop that looks like its from the National Art Gallery. I find myself, once again, digging to find the right copy of DG's new book. Once again, I see DG out of my eye. This time she smiles and goes back to perusing her books. I never do find the right copy but I remember looking longingly at some books on Egypt.
I live and DG follows me. Somehow I find myself sitting down at a table digging through the free tote bags they hand out. DG sits next to me and other people join us at the table. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember waking up thinking that DG had talked for a long time.
I never did find the right copy of her book.
Somewhere in my head, I hear someone say, "Her publisher only released a few of the books with the right covers. You can buy one with the wrong cover, then send it in the the company and they will replaced it with a new dust jacket." Still miffed, but I wanted the book. So I dig and dig and dig and still can't find one of the few books with the appropriate cover. Meanwhile, this whole time DG is in my line of sight, watching me. Oddly enough, it still does not creep me out. I know that there is another book sales tent at the end of the Festival grounds so I live the one tent to head for it.
But, somehow, I wander off the Mall into this residential neighborhood. Why and how, I don't know. So, I find myself standing on this deck that overlooks this medium sized cliff the drops off into the rest of the neighborhood. Keep in mind that there are no cliffs in southeast DC. I see this ladder that drops off the deck, so I decide to climb down it and proceed on my way to the other end of the book festival. Half-way down the ladder I notice someone following me. It's not DG like I expect. Instead, it's Clive Cussler. How I knew it was Clive Cussler is beyond me. I've only read one of his books (Raise the Titanic) and have no idea what he looks like. But I knew it was him, and I knew I had to get away.
So I scramble down the ladder, run through this neighborhood and emerge on the Mall by the Lincoln Monument. The National Book Festival takes place between the Capitol building and the Washington Monument. I clearly had overshot my mark. For some reason this did not disgruntle me. I just trudge my way along the Mall (which lacks all its Monuments now) towards my goal.
I finally get there, after dodging vans (who knows why), and discover that the other book sales tent is underground. So I enter this staircase and it takes me another staircase and gift shop that looks like its from the National Art Gallery. I find myself, once again, digging to find the right copy of DG's new book. Once again, I see DG out of my eye. This time she smiles and goes back to perusing her books. I never do find the right copy but I remember looking longingly at some books on Egypt.
I live and DG follows me. Somehow I find myself sitting down at a table digging through the free tote bags they hand out. DG sits next to me and other people join us at the table. I don't remember what we talked about, but I remember waking up thinking that DG had talked for a long time.
I never did find the right copy of her book.
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