wherein I have a dream during my birthday

In one dream I saw Robin Blaser and Jack Kerouac.  On the somewhat raised (pulpit?) part of a tatty lecture hall.  A mediocre table, an un-theatrical useless curtain, an absolutely faulty projector.

Blaser wanted to discuss some overuse/ repetition, of one word (I couldn't hear well in this dream) in Kerouac's poem.
said Kerouac: "A word is another word for candle flame."
Blaser, I think, nodded.  He could nod well, Blaser.  While he was alive.  Now he's dead he doesn't nod.

In my dream Blaser nodded to what Kerouac had to say.  Kerouac had more to say.  He said:

"An assassin is not always assassinating.  Sometimes an assassin is a grocery shopper."

Blaser knows this.  They are all just chums.

This one dream switched off.