Wow. That's so 21st century. Kinda wish I thought of that. So?

Turns out our brains show reactions to literary characters that resemble the patterns of meeting real live people.

Gosh, I feel like you have taken Reader Response to the limits. What am I supposed to do now?

I am contacting the CIA to see what sort of devices they have to detain—I mean read—people's thoughts. What works to understand the enemy's next move will work to root out exactly how we feel about Leopold Bloom—dontcha think?

I don't know. What do I think?

Shoot.

Well, it's a little awkward.

Take your time.

Well, in the dream I was reaching up to a shelf. I pulled down my old copy of Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway. But when I opened the book, there were no words. Instead of pages, there were mirrors.

I see… and…?

No more bustling London streets, Hyde Park, or Clarissa buying flowers. Just me on every page. What gives?

Well, Freud would really be your go-to on this one, but I see the mirror as a representation of how the text reflects you, the reader. As I have always said, we see and understand ourselves through reading.

Thank goodness. I thought you were going to offer me some Lacanian mirror stage interpretation.

God forbid! Anyway, always happy to help.

Hi, Tottie, appreciate the props from you. The Poetics is, like, a Bible to me. Philosophers just had so much chutzpah back then. I mean your idea that the audience could actually have a cathartic experience by watching a play—that's a bold theory.

Look, I'm not Stephen King, but I think that books should have an impact on people. I want the artist to provoke the audience to think and emotionally process, even if he has to scare the bejezus out of them in the process. Point is: the audience shouldn't soon forget the experience.

I want readers to see reading as a hot date where everything really clicks. There's an amazing connection, then you find yourself finishing each other's sentences.

Okay, so clearly, it's about more than just catharsis.

I guess you could say that…