Okay, so I have this fear.
I'm going to wake up tomorrow and discover all of this was a dream. My life, my wife and family, my friends, the cars, the space flights, the computers, Nietzsche, Bugs Bunny, my music, all of it, a dream.
I'll wake up to my real life as a 68 year old, Alabama pig farmer in the 1920s...with a hangover. I'll then spit on the ground and vow to never drink so much of my own 'shine' before bed again.