I had a dream that someone I know had been complaining about Comcast so much that some solomonic judge decreed that he’d be put in charge of the local franchise, to either improve it or appreciate the pressures of the system. And then he hired me as his enforcer and I’d ride along in his ‘30s open-top car with a pinstripe suit and guitar case tommy gun.

At one point he made fun of me for not getting the connection between the names of the Spectrum, this old Philly sports arena, and PRISM, a local premium cable station that aired games from there. Which was a connection I’d never made until right then, weirdly enough.

Then I had another dream that I was telling him about this dream, only I got woken up by a phone call in the middle of it and was really disoriented.