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I’m not a dream interpreter and I don’t play one on TV. Like a lot of people, I have dreams that leave me utterly baffled.

Why would Hillary Clinton want to visit my humble abode?

No idea. But an entire dream sequence was about getting the place ready for a campaign stop for Bill’s wife.

Why was I called upon to sing “We Built This City” on karaoke night?

Can’t say, but I sing much better in my dreams than I do in real life.

(And in a related note, hold the emails and calls about how “WBTC” is the worst song ever recorded. Even with me croaking the words, Starship’s 1985 hit isn’t even close to being the worst song of all time. Not as long as “Disco Duck” by Rick Dees is still on tape somewhere.)

Most of us also have a recurring dream or two. Most often, it’s set in high school or college and involves a class we haven’t attended all year or all semester or a paper that was assigned weeks ago and we’re just now getting around to writing it five minutes before it’s due.

If you work in the newspaper business and have spent time designing pages, a frequent recurring dream goes like this: It’s 15 minutes to the nightly page deadline and for some unknown reason, you haven’t even started on tomorrow’s 12-page section.

This one comes to me in the night so often that I’m sometimes able to shut it off in my sleep.

But one consistent aspect of my work dreams is that they almost exclusively happen in the building I’m in right now as I write my first words for the Tribune Chronicle in almost exactly 12 years.

The colleagues from every word factory I’ve toiled in come and go in dreams, but the setting always seems to be 240 Franklin St. S.E., in Warren, the home of the Tribune Chronicle and — since 2019 — The Vindicator.

There could be any number of reasons for this, but as is often the case, the simplest and most logical explanation is probably the most likely: Of all the stops on my career path, this is where I spent the most time — almost 18 years — during that first tenure.

Who says (former) sportswriters can’t do math unless we’re counting free hot dogs in the press box or figuring out someone’s batting average. ERA or QB rating?

Trick question: We never count the hot dogs, because then we’d have to count the calories, the nitrates and the time both take our lifespans.

1I started here as page designer and copy editor in 1995 in Dave Burcham’s sports department, working alongside Dave and a staff that included Dave Dorchock, Mike McLain and Tom Reed.

I’ve taken a little from each of them — and countless other colleagues and friends — as I’ve moved around over the years.

And, as you might have suspected, the journey has come full circle. I’m back at 240 Franklin St. S.E. in Warren as the editor of the Tribune Chronicle and Vindicator.

But I never really left. This is not only where I learned so many lessons about the news business, but it’s also where I’ve made my home since 1998 and where we raised a daughter. It’s where I poured countless dollars and hours into dance lessons and recital outfits and where I walked the sidelines on more Friday nights than I can count.

It’s where I dragged my daughter along with me to high school sports events and Youngstown State football practices for years.

That last played a part in her choosing to attend YSU, but that’s for a future column in this space.

It’s where I was able to present your stories in the Tribune Chronicle and later tell them in print and online.

I’m blessed to be welcomed back to a familiar place in a new role by many talented people I worked with all those years ago and new colleagues — just as talented — that I’m getting to know.

All of us here share a passion, and that is covering the news in the Mahoning Valley and telling your stories.

Thanks for welcoming me into your homes previously and again now.

It’s good to be back in a place I’ve literally dreamed about for years.

Ed Puskas is editor of the Tribune Chronicle and Vindicator. Write him at epuskas@tribtoday.com.