I had a fun little dream the other night. I was at a cocktail party that was part of my MI-6 class reunion. Nobody there seemed to know me, and nobody was socializing with me. All of the other guys there were suave, James Bond types, and I was my geeky, awkward self. I walked by the reception desk, and the nametag babe asked for my MI-6 name and my dates of service. I hesitated a moment, as if I couldn't remember, then said "Remus" and "1978-81" (I would have been 15-17 y.o., btw). She checked her computer, then handed me a nametag bearing the name "Remus." I went back inside the party and began socializing with the one other geeky guy there. Turns out that I was so effective as an agent that I rarely carried a gun, and that I had only been forced to use a firearm once or twice. Not a bad little dream at all.