We are sitting around in an upper room in a nice condo or apartment in Sherman Oaks, a bunch of ageing writers shooting the breeze. One of them is, I think, Larry DiTillio or looks very much like him. He's drinking and laughing, I haven't seen him in so long. We are all talking about our novels, or our writers' block.
A giddy young man enters, He has been writing a book ... he is the son of the one who looks like DiTillio (although I didn't even realize a son exists.) He says he has a discovery that connects all history.
He go through a curtain and we are suddenly in a huge square. In the middle there is a polygonal wall covered with an inscription, it seems to be something like the Iliad or Ramayana. Behind it, a similar polygon is being excavated and there stands a four-sided white column, whitewashed, with some red letters that have been transliterated from the polygon, where someone is prying loose some brass plates to reveal masses of writing, The transliteration appears to speak of Romans, a bridge and a river. There is a character that looks like a cross between V and L and we read it is R or L.
The giddy young man says, "This is what's in my book — the ultimate proof — that everything in the universe — all stories, all truths — are connected."
Going back through the curtain, we join the others in a lower level of the house which looks like a lanai, and they're all still drinking and carousing.
This is the first time I've remembered a dream for months.