Last night I dreamed of a “star miner” frustrated with his work.

As my girlfriend and I slept in our bedroom, which had a glass dome ceiling, we were awoken by a brawny guy in filthy coveralls and a ball cap who had broken into our home just to lay in the spare bed at the other end of the room and bitch about his job. He was employed by a company that – based on Eastern astrology – was contracted to tap into distant stars so their light energy could be harnessed and used here on Earth. He was upset because his work was tiring and the smaller stars he’d been assigned to provided little resource. He angrily threw an index finger toward a brighter star and said with conviction, “It’s those big, fucking Chinese dots we need to drain!”

I woke up and rolled my eyes at the idea we’d take an oil mentality to the cosmos.