Pitch Session

      Dreamed I was in a very cluttered house, books and magazines everywhere, piles of clothing and dishes were scattered about. There was a clear room in the dining area, it had been set up with diffusion gel on the sliding glass windows and photographers backgrounds hung from a series of window shades along the opposite wall. There were also several reflectors and a couple of tripods in the room. The man who lived/worked there looked like Dean Stockwell, only heavier and with more facial hair. I had brought my journal, full of film pitches, and a portfolio case with some photographs and some 3d renderings based on other photograper's works. (Just to show the breadth of my abilities.)
      Now, in real life I'm not that much of a photographer or artist, but the samples in my portfolio were quite good. The Director looked through them. "usable for the magazine, maybe online. Do you have any nudes?"
      "Not that are available for publication," I admitted. "I'm really more of a writer, creator."
      "OK, let's hear it."
      I pitched him a couple of ideas. I could tell he didn't like them as much as he liked my photography. He stopped me and asked a couple of other people to look at my portfolio, and asked me to leave any treatments I might have brought along. After chatting about his setup, and his collection, we started to grate on one another. No real animosity on my part, but I could feel some on his. I quickly made my excuses so as not to sour things further, then I discovered my portfolio was missing.
      We looked for it for a little bit, he becoming more and more agitated. Other people began to arrive, one was introduced as his "mate." She was a pleasant faced silver haired woman who was still beautifully shaped for her age. We began to talk a little bit. I telling her that I must have misplaced my portfolio. She indicated that it might be a tough thing to find in the mess. She invited me to stay for dinner and their "after dinner dessert party."
      "Sorry dear, he's a lunatic, there is no portfolio, he's just leaving." The Director tried to rush me out of there. Not wanting to make a fuss, I described the portfolio quickly as I was leaving. He handed me a black zippered journal, a smaller version of my portfolio. I looked inside, there were some equations and the like, many pages of game systems started over and over again, like in my own journal's.
      "Hey, this is like mine!"
      "Yeah! and she was nothing but trouble, too." He pushed me out the front door. I wasn't really resisting. "If I can use anything I'll let you know. I may send a couple of models to you, if you do a good job I'll publish you. Now get out!"
      "Thank you." I turned and headed down the long driveway to my car, then realized that my car keys were in the portfolio case. Sighing, I turned and walked back up the driveway. I stood outside the front door for a couple of minutes before knocking gently.
      The Mate answered the door. "Hello again, have you reconsidered dinner?"
      "I'd better not. I just realized that I'd left my car keys in a portfolio like this one," I showed her the journal the Director had forced into my hands before leaving, "only it was about three times the size."
      "I think I was just looking at the portfolio, I thought there was something in the pocket." She looked back into the house. "Wait here, I'll get you your keys." She closed the door gently and I waited,
      Waited.
      And Waited.
      And finally woke up waiting for my keys. I wanted to get up and check my portfolio, then realized I don't have one like that.