Last night, I dreamed I had dinner with the Daily Show’s Jon Stewart.

I’m not speaking figuratively, metaphorically or otherwise-ly. It’s what happened: I was dreaming, and in my dream, I was having dinner with Jon Stewart, the host of nightly Daily Show on Comedy Central.
Sadly, my SO, who’s a big (if not even bigger) fan, wasn’t there. Go figure.

It started out in their studio, and I was complimenting Stewart on the show’s comprehensive video library. There were piles of video tapes all around (shades of my bedroom), and I was asking how they organized everything. I believe the answer was, each person was responsible for their own piles, so at some level, nobody knew where things were.

And then we were eating dinner, in a house in the ‘burbs. There was one, maybe two other people at the table. I don’t remember who, I don’t think it was anybody I knew, certainly nobody I recognized. (E.g., nobody else from the show cast. That’s a shame, I would have loved to chat with Larry Wilmer.)

The conversation was about mundane stuff.

And then we were outside on the lawn (dreams aren’t big on transitional segue logic), with Stewart and the other guest playing a game of catch.

And then I was inside, with some guy showing me something about the size of a record album or a laser disc (they’re the same size), telling me, “This has seventeen episodes of the Daily Show on it.” And I realized that dinner was over, and I’d been handed over to the merchandizing department. “What would I play this on?” I asked. (I’ve got a laser disk player, but it wasn’t clear this was a laser disc.)

I didn’t get an answer. And soon after, I woke up.

Dear Daily Show, if you do invite me again, please make sure to include my SO next time.