Rob is in the next room with a towel on his head. As an added precaution, he has also covered every inch of the bedroom windows with tin foil. And since this sort of information is likely to set off national-security alarms in these fascistic days of Big Brother Bush, I must hasten to add that he is trying to sleep. The towel is to shield him from daylight, as is the tin foil, although the latter may also be the source of the disquieting dream I had about being broiled.

Just kidding: I had no such nightmare. In fact, I dreamed about what our lives would be like when Rob becomes famous, an outcome that will very likely arise in the near future.

I also dreamed that I was a demon sorcerer from another dimension who showed up on the starship Voyager to interact with Captain Janeway, but the chances of that occurring are statistically much slimmer.

Back to Rob. He is sleeping late and will become famous for the same reason: For the past two weeks, he has been involved in an arduous rehearsal process for his new musical, Vanishing Point. Last night, the play opened in Minneapolis, and it was completely breathtaking. Without taking the remotest amount of credit for it (aside from the page numbering on the scripts!), I must say that I have never been so proud of someone in my life. To sit next to him and his collaborators and watch that brilliant and moving work unfold and know that it came from those three human minds (mostly Rob's!) was not only a thrill, it was a personal inspiration. My life is going to change a great deal because of that inspiration and because this play is going places, and Rob is going with it. At times that thought is exhilarating, and at times it is terrifying; usually it is a mixture of both.

And speaking of terrifying, today, we are going to the Mall of America.