I don't often dream about my writing, but last night's was a doozy:
I traveled fairly far to read in a poetry series held in a bar/restaurant. I was the featured reader. My new book had not been published yet, so I had to read from my chapbook. I realized that I only had one copy of my chapbook with me to sell. I started my reading and I casually commented that it's been so long since my chapbook was published that I don't even recognize the poems anymore. After reading several poems, I realized that the cover was put on the wrong chapbook and these are, in fact, not my poems.
I immediately decided to stop reading from the chapbook and pull out what I think are the newer poems I brought to read from my forthcoming book. It turns out I only brought one page, featuring two very short poems. At this point, there are only two people left at the reading besides myself and the host. The reading ends and I have to drive a long way home.
I guess manuscripts and readings are on my mind lately...