Last night I dreamed that the Little Man was telling his friends that his daddy was a science fiction writer.

His friends grew excited. “What movies did he write?” they asked.

“He didn’t write any movies,” the Little Man said.

“Oh, well, what TV shows did he write?” his friends asked, unperturbed.

“He hasn’t written any TV shows either,” the Little Man said.

Nonplussed, his friends continued, wringing their little hands, “Well, what video games did he write?”

“He didn’t write any video games,” the Little Man said, now rather somber.

“Well then what kind of science fiction does he write? his friends asked.

“Science fiction stories!” the Little Man said, proudly.

“Stories? You mean like in books?””

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well who cares about that!” his friends said, after which I woke up in a cold sweat.