I dreamt that I was working on my doctoral dissertation, which was almost finished. I was living with my parents. They were in their fifties and I was in my twenties. The dissertation was colossal. I did not know the exact number of pages, but it went into hundreds of thousands. It took an entire bookshelf that stretched from floor to ceiling across a whole wall in my room. I remember that my parents appeared quite concerned about my work. I was obsessed with it. I was feverishly adding pages to the dissertation one day when the bookshelf in my room suddenly collapsed. From some distance, the sound was frightening. I rushed to my room to see what had happened, but it was clear that the bookshelf could not take the growing weight of the dissertation. As often happens in dreams, I woke up before I reached my room. Lying awake in the middle of the night, I reflected on the dream. I was far from my parents while I was working on my doctoral dissertation. They were in Yugoslavia and I was in the States. More important, mine was one of the shortest dissertations ever, as it covered only fifty-eight typewritten pages. But then I started wondering about my Residua. At more than two-million words, it is indeed becoming bulky. If it were printed out, it would take an entire shelf. Before I managed to fall asleep again, I wondered whether something had gone wrong with my website. The collapse of the bookshelf felt ominous in the middle of the night. I checked my site as soon as I woke up in the morning. Luckily, everything was hunky-dory.