If you want to read me at my snarky best, head on over to Sci Fi Ideas and check out the article I wrote on alien hybrids. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry . . . probably cry.
My dreams–there is no control over them. They just come. Sometimes good, sometimes bad . . . sometimes extremely interesting.
I’d have to say last night was well into the later category.
I’ve used a couple of different drugs to try and help me sleep the last couple of months. The first one I was taking didn’t seem to do much for me, but it did cause me to have some very lucid dreams. My doctor then put me on the one that uses that big, glowing luna moth to help you sleep, but, in my case, that lazy bastard hasn’t been helping me out at all. Maybe it was the blue moon the last few night that’s kept it away, but the moth is definitely falling down on the job.
Last night, worn out from a long day and a very long drive, I switched back to the first drug to see if it might help me drift off to slumber land. Not at first, because I lay about for a while before I crashed.
But when I did . . . oh, man. Dreamland, baby: here I come.
There was a big section where it seemed like I was spending my time helping people out. How? By jumping in what looked like a mecha and going after bad guys.
Now, if you don’t know what a mecha is, let me give you a quick primer. In a quick sentence, it’s usually a humanoid like machine that’s piloted by a human, or many humans. And they are usually very big–as in like three or four times the size of a person, up to mile-long spaceship long. While a lot of mecha can be quadrupedal, the Japanese like to get into the Super Robot and Real Robot stuff. Last night’s dream was petty much in the Super Robot stuff, although it wasn’t so much a suit I had, as it was just a walking death machine.
The me in the dream was the Cassidy me, and she . . . well, I was walking around in a jumpsuit and a head scarf for the majority of the dream, though I know I was wearing an abaya at one point. That made for an interesting vision, because the Cassidy me has never been like that at any time. It was very strange seeing the dream me strap in and slip in some earbuds under the head scarf before heading out to blast the shit outta things.
I was even more surprised that I remembered so many things in such details after I woke, because the last few weeks my dreams have been sorta impossible to pin down. I think it’s that damn luna moth; it’s not helping me sleep, and it’s taking my dreams. Probably selling them to someone who’s going to write the next Fifty Shades of Grey. Which is just my luck, because I was seriously considering writing some mommy porn . . .
Speaking of ideas–is there one there? Maybe. Who knows how my brain works: I’m certainly still learning. But every time something like that hits me, I start wondering if I have something I can flesh out into a story. Since I’m setting up my idea file today, I might as well thrown that one in there, because you never know–I might just have the next big thing that people want to read.
Or not . . .
You never know until you take that leap of faith.