Well . . . what can I say about this morning? Really, it more like, “What about last night?”
All freaky stuff, that’s all that happened.
There are times when you really wonder what the hell is going on inside your head. I really had a pretty nice evening. I was chatting with a friend most of the evening, and I was writing at the same time. Yes, I can do those things; yes, I can keep track of what I’m doing. Yes, I am a cockeyed wonder. Since chatting is in a text medium, it’s just another form of writing, no?
Anyway–Chapter 7.5, as I am calling it, of Couples Dance. It was just one video scene I was describing, but it ended up taking 1,325 to get that down, and having the chat going on at the same time was probably a good thing, because I was having to write some crazy, depraved stuff. I’m sure some of you are thinking, “I wasn’t that bad,” and you’re right: it probably wasn’t. I’m just building up my own hype, perhaps.
The chat was great, because I was able to catch up on things involving writing and other creative outlets. Yesterday was both soul sucking and drama filed, and I didn’t need either. I just wanted to get on, do a few things, chat, write, sleep. But before I went off, my friend–known to this blog as Trusty Editortm, a good friend to this writer–and they said, “Dream something wonderful!” before I logged.
Yeah. I wish.
To be honest I really couldn’t tell what was going on half the time in my dream. All I know is that it was long, it was in sort of gray and sepia tones, it had something to do with writing and acting, and I was switching gender about as often as I change underwear.
It seemed to involve some kind of dystopian landscape, because I can remember seeing things being all torn up and semi-Mad Max II looking. I kept finding myself playing the part in what seemed like a movie, or play, and I was, in turns, both writing dialog, and then giving it to myself to read for the different parts that were required. That was where all the gender switching kept happening, because I needed to be those characters, and well . . . one of the characters was a mother. Now I know how Sam Becket felt that one time.
But there was also something sinister going on in the background of which I was only dimly aware. Not really sure what was happening, but there was some blood sport action ongoing. And I know I was in it at one point, because I remember being told I had to attend, and the next think I realized, I’m running through the woods with something like a Klingon bat’leth in my hands.
Crazy nutty, and probably not what Trusty Editortm had in mind at all.
I actually have a pretty good idea what my dream involved: writing, characters, and how much you put yourself into your work. We’re always in our stories, because we are our characters. And in some instances–such as my characters in my story Transporting, or my role playing character Kerry–you get into them a lot deeper than you would ever imagine. That is what you do, and for writers, it can some times be a curse.
I think someone was telling me something in my dreams last night–now I just gotta figure out who it was, and what they were trying to tell me.
It would be a lot simpler if they just sent me an IM.
