Weird dream

In the dream, I was working at a bookstore - not the same as the one I do the odd shift for, but not exactly different, either. A friend would visit me, who, depending on what point of the dream you caught, was either Henry Bugler (beloved eccentric Maple Ridge high school teacher, now retired) or David M. of NO FUN. I was telling him that writer Hubert Selby Jr. (now deceased, in reality, and not gay that I ever heard, and I've seen a documentary about him and read a few of his books) would sometimes pick up men at the store, and that I knew he had a secret stash of "gifts" to give away to them, hidden behind the books on a shelf next to the front counter. On said shelf, I found that he had a copy of his short story collection, Song of the Silent Snow. This is all probably on my mind because a) I have a party planned in memory of my Mom, in Maple Ridge, and David M. is going to play there, and b) I read a short story to my Mom when she was in the hospital from that collection, "Fat Phils Day," the first story in the book, about a chubby kid who goes on a winning streak, shooting dice with his friends, and gets so beat up by them that he prays to lose...

...anyhow, I see Hubert Selby outside the store, and run after him, leaving the counter unmanned or only manned by my variable-identity teacher-musician friend.  After encountering the wrong person, and nearly getting distracted, I catch up with Selby and give him a hug, saying he should come back to the store. He does, and I proudly tell him I know where his secret stash is; I produce Song of the Silent Snow - the same Marion Boyars edition that I have - and discover that he has ALREADY INSCRIBED IT TO ME, "Dear Allan," with a message about not giving up hope, right there on the front cover!

Then we cut to another part of the dream, where I discover, I guess having seen Selby off, that my replacement - a young woman - has taken over at the counter. She's asking me if she should close up now, and I say something like, "no no, it's allright, my parents are dead and I have nothing to do, I'll close, you can go home."

That's all I remember from the dream. By the way, those who are interested in coming to a small sendoff for my Mom, it's this Saturday at her building. Pete Campbell and David M. will perform a short set. It's mostly going to be seniors and people who knew my Mom, so it's not exactly a public event, but if friends in Maple Ridge are reading this and want to be there...